


Watch Me

by Anonymous



Series: Cam model AU [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Eventual Romance, M/M, Sex Toys, Sexual Tension, Webcams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-14 11:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14768543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Oikawa's a cam model. It’s been a month since Iwaizumi first spoke in his chat. When they meet in person, things get complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXPANDED TAGS: webcams (cam models Oikawa and Iwaizumi), anal sex (fingering, toys, penis, prostate play, rimming), sex toys (dildos, vibrators, anal beads, butt plugs, mentions of sounding and cock rings), dirty talk (including unwanted objectification and use of the word slut, phone sex)
> 
> OTHER SHIPS: There are several sexual encounters in this fic that are not based on romantic relationships and are therefore not listed. These include: Kuroo/Iwaizumi and Tendou/Iwaizumi.

When the ligaments in his knee get blown to bits, Oikawa quits his college volleyball team and drops out of school, unable to afford it without his sports scholarship. It takes two months to run through his savings on physical therapy, rent, and food. During that time, he finds a website for cam boys.

It snowballed from there.

Fast-forward another four months and he’s got people paying to watch him get off. He definitely rose to semi-popularity fast. He streams three times a week and some people pay a monthly subscription fee, others only paying for individual videos. Subscribers get extra perks like access to a snapchat he updates frequently and special recognition during shows. It’s a weird concept. He hates most of it but what he hates more is that he likes some of it. It pays his rent and his doctors’ bills. It puts food on the table. He gets to get off, at least.

He had a good thing going for a while. Jerk off, maybe use a toy or two, and get paid.

Tonight is a normal show. Nothing special. Not a long, drawn out thing where he edges himself or tries for multiple orgasms. It’s his hand on his cock, a favorite dildo inside him, and his camera. It’s sweat rolling down his temple, his face flushed, his hair a mess, his mouth open as his moans and gasps. It’s donations coming in as he spreads himself for the camera and wiggles his hips.

Then his chat begins to move very, very quickly. He catches a few of the messages from his top paying customers. He recognizes their names instantly. 

 

SizeKing42: _o shit aat is here!!_

boytoys12: _we got a celebrity folks_

ball_hog: _does that mean aat subscribes to king?_ _@aat please comment_

SizeKing42: _I bet!!_

Boytoys12: _@ball_hog, probably?? at least paid for this show_

 

What is an aat? Or rather, who is aat?

Oikawa looks back up at the chat, hoping the message isn’t gone. He’s not stopping the show at this point to scroll back up. Maybe he could look when he’s done and chatting with everyone that hangs around. But he sees the message. There’s only one name that could be aat right before his chat freaked.

 

ArmsAndThighs: _have you ever come untouched?_

 

“Ah, a new viewer,” Oikawa says lightly, like he doesn’t have a six and a half-inch realistic dildo shoved inside him, the synthetic balls plush against his ass. “And apparently a celebrity. Hmm. Do you mean coming without touching my cock, Arms? I haven’t, but I want to. I’ve heard it’s reeeally intense.”

Oikawa wants to come now, but he also wants to drag this out at least another ten minutes. He started off too eagerly. The exercises and stretches he learned in physical therapy were particularly tough and made his knee ache, and the desire to get off, to be done with this, and to sleep had been too strong. Maybe he should switch to a different toy to slow down the pace.

 

ArmsAndThighs: _if you want to why haven’t you? most guys can_

 

Because fucking yourself can make your wrist cramp? What he’s doing now is already making his arm tense, but it feels good and he doesn’t want to stop, ignoring the tightness that comes with fucking himself. Because the alternative is sticking a dildo on a flat surface and riding it, which hurts his knee?

“Because playing with my cock is more fun,” he replies with a cheeky grin.

Oikawa pulls out the dildo until he can feel the bumped edge of the head tugging at his rim. Then, with a firm motion, he pushes it back inside to the hilt, tilting his hips down into it to get it that much deeper. He lets out a loud moan that’s half-real, half-for show then keeps pushing, pushing, until it physically can’t go in more but he keeps pushing, wanting that mind-numbing pressure.

Oikawa rolls his head to the side, glancing at the other messages in the chat. Someone donates three dollars and asks for him to play with his nipples so he complies with a flirty grin, tugging and rolling at one with his free hand as his other works the dildo. Nipples don’t do it for him, but he can put on an act like it does. It’s simple: moan and pretend to like it and they’ll pay to see it again.

“You guys,” he says, forcing his voice into a slightly higher pitch. Not girly, not whiny, but higher. “I may be selfish and come soon. Is that okay?”

There’s an immediate response and it’s split fifty-fifty: _no not yet_ and _shoot your load_.

He reaches down and tugs at his cock and works the dildo faster, desperate. “I really want to come. I’m leaking so much, see?”

He angles his cock so its standing straight up instead of resting on his belly. With a few more strokes, pre-cum dribbles out of the tip. He moans and smears it along his fingers, working it down the shaft, letting it mingle with the lube that’s already there.

 

boytoys12: _it’s that cock up ur ass making u that wet_

ball_hog: _I’d fuck you after u finish coming and make u cum again_

 

One of his regulars tips seventy dollars, an amount large enough to set off a different chime than the rest. He recognizes the username. The person doesn’t talk much in chat, but they donate large amounts like that when Oikawa asks for input. Come or not? Dildo or fingers? Oikawa thinks they get off on making a decision, of being in control. He plays it up every time.

“What do you want me to do, Honey? You want me to come for you, or you want me to hold it in? I’ll do whatever you want.”

There’s a slight delay before he gets a response.

 

HoneyHole30: _come_

 

“Fuck, yes,” Oikawa moans, tilting his head back. “Thank you, Honey.”

He speeds up both of his hands, working his cock and ass together until his hips are arching off the bed. He’s so close. It doesn’t take much. His body explodes with heat and tightens up, toes curling into the sheets. He comes with a loud, wet moan, all over his stomach. He makes a show of dragging the dildo out of his body then focuses on stroking his oversensitive cock, like he’s trying to milk out one more drop, until his legs are shaking and he can’t handle it anymore.

He lies there for a little while, basking in the afterglow, lazily reading the chat and thanking people for the donations and messages as they come in—a dollar here or there, people saying if they’ve come.  Someone wants him to eat his cum and donates five for it, so he scoops it off his abs, shows it to the camera, and makes a show of sucking on his fingers.

Eventually, he sits up. He can’t rest for long. As long as he’s still streaming, he’s still working.

“I’ll be right back after I clean up if you want to stick around and chat with me. If you want to head out, I’ll see you next time!” Oikawa says, waving and jumping off the bed. He leaves the toy on the bed and makes a beeline for the bathroom.

Talking is what he hates the most. Interacting with people who see him as nothing more than something for sex. Most guys only watch if he’s using a dildo, seeing him as nothing more than an attractive hole to use.

He hates the ones that act like he’s their friend even more. It feels invasive, uncomfortable, wrong. He’ll talk and smile and share minor aspects of his day—what he ate, if he saw a movie, things like that—but they don’t know him. They pay for the sex. The companionship is a small extra that makes them feel special. He gets it, but he doesn’t really like it.

Still, being friendly goes a long way and it’s not too hard.

Once he cleans up, he grabs a pillow them jumps onto the bed, stretching out with the pillow tucked under him, his legs kicking behind him as he reads the chat. There aren’t as many people as there were during the video, but some of the usual names have stuck around. He says hello and thanks them individually for sticking around, wanting them to come back again and again. Most of the regulars pay a monthly subscription fee rather than paying per video, and it’s their extra donations during stream that really pay his bills.

It looks like people are asking about ArmsAndThighs.

 

SizeKing42: _you guys should collab and he can give you a p massage ;)_

ball_hog: _yeah! bet youre super hot coming untouched_

 

Oikawa scrolls through the messages, not seeing any more from ArmsAndThighs.

“I’ve never heard of Arms before tonight. I’ll have to check him out! I’m still pretty new to the scene, so I’m relying on you guys to point me towards good content.”

Luckily the chat quickly switches directions.

 

SizeKing42: _asked earlier but was that a new toy?_

 

“Sorry I missed that question earlier, Size,” Oikawa says. “It’s not a new toy. It’s two months old, I think? It’s my favorite. I don’t know if I’ve used it in a video, though, so it may be new to you all. I just wanted something in me and forgot to show it off like I usually do...”

 

* * *

 

When Oikawa signs off, the first thing he does is clean his dildo. The next is strip the sheets and throw them in the laundry. He puts on a new set of sheets, ones he actually sleeps on, and puts his streaming equipment away. Then he sits on his bed with his laptop. He does some quick math in a spreadsheet with the tips he got along with his income from monthly subscribers. With his rent for the month finally paid, he has some leftover, which he can put towards other things like food and electricity and hopefully, if the month keeps going the way it is, some savings.

There’s a private message waiting for him on the website that hosts his stream. Oikawa has his settings adjusted so that only other content producers could message him. He had one too many creepy guys trying to talk to him.

 

ArmsAndThighs: _decent show but_ _you’re obviously pretending to like it_

Oikawa stares at the tiny box. Annoyed, he types back:

 

Beautiful_King: _I don’t know what you’re talking about._ _Why are you watching me if you don’t enjoy my content?_

ArmsAndThighs: _because my viewers rave about this new guy and I wanted to see what the big deal is_

ArmsAndThighs: _but some of the things you do aren’t things you enjoy_

ArmsAndThighs: _look the porn industry is shit but as cam models we often have more freedom over what we do and you should do what you want. if you’re so desperate to make money you know there are other ways that aren’t so exploitative and damaging_

 

It was the money at first. It was the money, and the control, and the fact that he busted his knee in college and couldn’t do any of the things he wanted. Now that he left school and started camming, money is less of an issue, but he doesn’t know what else to do. A lot of part-time jobs require standing for long periods of time, or manual labor, and he doesn’t want to blow out his knee again. He can’t afford surgery a second time, especially without that health insurance he was forced to get as a student.  

Why couldn’t this guy just mind his own damn business, or jerk off like everyone else?

 

Beautiful_King: _Thanks for the concern but I just made my rent tonight._

ArmsAndThings: _is that meant to be snarky?_

Beautiful_King: _Yup. Glad that came through ;)_

He signs off.

 

* * *

 

It takes Oikawa a day to check out ArmsAndThings channel. He’s in he’s top thirty of cam boys on the site according to the large number in the corner. Oikawa hasn’t broken that mark yet. He’s somewhere in the sixties, which is impressive considering he’s only done this for four months. Why hadn’t Oikawa heard of ArmsAndThings before yesterday?

It’s a pretty standard page, nothing special at first glance. The color scheme is dark and bold, very macho-esque. His profile picture in the corner shows ArmsAndThighs naked from the hips up and Oikawa is lost in the expanse of exposed tan skin and well-defined muscles. He’s definitely attractive, a picture-perfect man in society’s eyes. Below the picture is a short intro that says his name is Iwaizumi, he’s twenty-one, and that he likes fucking and being fucked, then it lists his various maxes for weight lifting.

There’s one full length video and several short clips, many featuring other big names on the site. Everything else you need to pay for. Oikawa passes over the one full-length video for now and curiously flicks through the free clips. None of them are over two minutes long and are taken from a larger video. Some of the clips are edited to show some of the action while others are milder, conversations with guests or toy reviews with promises of demonstrations. A sneak peek at what happens in the full-length video if you pay.

He clicks on a link with a familiar face: another cam model, Kuroo. He does a pretty similar show to Oikawa’s, but the vibe in the chat is different and they have very different viewers. Kuroo is definitely more of a jokester and a tease. Everyone watching Oikawa knows he will do what asked if you pay enough. Kuroo really makes people fight for it.

In the clip, Kuroo and Iwaizumi are in front of the camera talking. They’re sitting next to each other on a large bed, Kuroo shirtless but Iwaizumi still fully clothed. Kuroo leans back on his arms, showing off his chest. His gaze is fixed on Iwaizumi, who must be looking at a laptop off screen.

“Someone wants to know what you’re looking forward to today,” Iwaizumi reads.

Kuroo doesn’t move his eyes from Iwaizumi. His grin is filthy. “We spent some time earlier and went through his toy collection. Spoiler: I’m already using one.”

The scene cuts to Kuroo standing with his back to the camera, Iwaizumi seated on the edge of the bed in front of him. Iwaizumi drags Kuroo’s pants down, leaving him in a jock. Then Iwaizumi tugs Kuroo forward against him, bending Kuroo forward and exposing his ass and the plug inside. Iwaizumi’s thick fingers tug at Kuroo’s cheeks, making the flat end of a black plug even more obvious.

The scene reverts to Kuroo on the bed with Iwaizumi, talking about toys again. Iwaizumi is looking at Kuroo now, laughing. It’s a bright, carefree laugh, not the staged laugh a lot of cam models use. It’s real, or as real as things got in this industry.

“There’s this nice, thick dildo he’s got,” Kuroo goes on. “Not disgustingly big. I’m not a size queen, but I do like a thick dick every once in a while.”

Another scene change. Kuroo is on his back, knees drawn up, and Iwaizumi is sliding a dildo in slowly. It’s semi-realistic with veins but no balls and is a bright orange color that would make Oikawa laugh if he wasn’t so fixated on Kuroo taking it. It had to be around seven inches and reasonably thick. Definitely too thick for a beginner.

“Oh, _fuuuck_ ,” Kuroo moans as the toy bottoms out.

“How’s it feel?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Full. Really full.”

Iwaizumi keeps his palm on the flat end of the toy, keeping the pressure there. Kuroo squirms but Iwaizumi follows his movement, not relenting, keeping the toy deep. With a bit of a laugh, Kuroo says, “Give me a minute.”

“Take your time. If you want it taken out, let me know.” Iwaizumi releases the toy, rubbing his fingers along Kuroo’s taint, straying up to his balls then cock, stroking him from root to tip. “I’ll fuck you with it whenever you’re ready.”

Kuroo groans. One of Iwaizumi’s hands rubs up and down his side before Kuroo grabs his hand, threading their fingers together. It’s barely noticeable—most people would probably be looking at the toy—but Oikawa sees it.

Oikawa idly presses a palm to his groin, rubbing at himself. He doesn’t usually get off on watching other cam shows. He recognizes how fake they are. People moan too loud, exaggerate their movements, and get soft if they’re not into it. But this? This is different in a way he can’t pinpoint.

Back to the bed. Iwaizumi rubs a hand up Kuroo’s covered thigh. Iwaizumi’s fingers catch on the slight bulge at Kuroo’s groin before sliding back down to his thigh.

“But the one I’m most excited for,” Kuroo says, “is this sleeve he’s got. I know he’s used it to jerk off a few times for you guys. Not a fleshlight, but this stretchy thing with all these ridges. I’ve never used one and it looks awesome.”

“It feels awesome,” Iwaizumi assures. “Anything else?”

“Oh,” Kuroo says, tilting his head, “and your cock, I guess.”

Another scene change. Kuroo is on his knees facing the camera, Iwaizumi behind him, a thick tan arm wrapped around his waist to keep him upright as Iwaizumi fucks into him slow and deep. Kuroo has a white sleeve around his cock and he’s jerking it just as slow, moaning, his mouth hanging open. Oikawa can see the ridges on the sleeve and grips his own cock through his clothes, now half-hard. 

He’s never used sleeves or fleshlights or anything like that. Before camming, he had never even used a sex toy. Now he has a drawer full of them, but no sleeves. He wonders if that sleeve makes a difference. Oikawa wonders how big Iwaizumi’s cock is. Some guys that like toys overcompensate. He can’t see from his angle, but Kuroo is definitely enjoying it.

There’s one last scene change to Kuroo lying on the bed with Iwaizumi next to him, both of them reading the chat. They’re naked and clearly in the afterglow. Iwaizumi has an arm across Kuroo’s shoulders, rubbing at the one furthest from him with his thumb.

“Would I want to do this again?” Kuroo reads. He grins. “Oh, definitely.”

 

* * *

 

Oikawa’s life moves forward. He goes to a gym to do his PT exercises and works out what parts of his body don’t ache before a rain storm, spends way too much on the phone with his insurance company about his medical bills, and tries to find another job that doesn’t require a college degree or put stress on his knee. He watches the one free full-length video on Iwaizumi’s site and gets off twice. He takes pictures of him post work out, never giving away his location, his shirt hiked up and abs sweaty, his gym shorts so low you can see the dip of his hips. He posts the pictures to a subscribers-only private snapchat.

It’s exhausting, physically and mentally.

One morning, someone is banging on the door to his apartment. Oikawa ignores it, but it doesn’t stop, and then he hears, “Oikawa-san, please open up,” from his un-cute, annoying junior and he’s awake and furious. He gets up, careful of his leg, and opens the door to his apartment.

“Tobio,” Oikawa greets. “It’s been awhile.”

Kageyama is standing there, hand still held up like he wants to knock, looking surprised that Oikawa actually answered. He looks like a deer in headlights.

Nearly six months since Oikawa dropped out of school. He cut the team out of his life and stopped volleyball cold turkey. He stopped watching the volleyball team’s matches, stopped following their twitter. He figured if he couldn’t play, he wasn’t going to torture himself. And last of all, he didn’t want the team’s pity.

“No one has heard from you or seen you on campus,” Kageyama says, lowering his arm. “Kunimi thought you may be dead and now Kindaichi is checking the obituaries every day.”

He always liked those two, at least more than Kageyama.

“At least come to practice and watch,” Kageyama keeps going, not stopping.

“I don’t go to school anymore, Tobio,” Oikawa says. He leans against his doorframe, blocking his apartment from view. “And would you want to watch everyone play when you couldn’t, hmm? Don’t be an idiot. Well, more than you already are.”

Kageyama’s face grows harsh, hands forming into fists, the prettiest red on his face. Get mad, Oikawa thinks smugly. Get mad and never come back.

“They’re just worried.”

“They? Not you?”

“I…” Kageyama glances to the side, his face going redder. So cute. So easy to rile up. Oikawa misses taunting him. He mutters, “Of course I’m worried.”

“I’m so glad you care about me, Tobio, but you don’t need to. I’m fine, with or without volleyball. Unlike you, it’s not my whole life.”

Kageyama doesn’t look convinced.

“Just text them,” Kageyama says with more force.

“Will that make you leave?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Oikawa closes the door in his face a little harder than what was probably necessary. A few hours later, after letting Kageyama stir, he texts the team chat that he couldn’t bring himself to delete from his phone or stop following. He could erase volleyball, but he couldn’t erase them, not completely.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa quietly pays the fee and subscribes to Iwaizumi’s channel two weeks after he talked in Oikawa’s stream. If Iwaizumi notices, he doesn’t send a message to Oikawa being a dick about it. Oikawa checks his subscribers list and sees Iwaizumi’s username. Oikawa wonders if Iwaizumi has watched any of his other videos, if he got off to them like he got off to Iwaizumi’s.

He doesn’t really know why he cares.

Maybe because he hasn’t had any type of competition since leaving volleyball. Yeah. That had to be it.  

It’s Saturday night and Oikawa is on his sofa, surrounded by blankets. It’s his one true day off. No camming, no PT exercises, no chores. He’s going to damn well enjoy it. Earlier there was a bath and a face mask. Now there’s a near empty bottle of wine on his coffee table, a completely empty pizza box, and his laptop.

ArmsAndThighs is going live.

He loads up his page and a video pops up. The setting is a bit different from some of the clips Oikawa has watched, but it’s the same at the core. A bed with a couple of cameras carefully set up with good lighting.

The guest is wearing a pair of loose black shorts and a white tank top, kicking their legs back and forth. They have unnaturally red hair stuck up and a strange look to them. Limbs that are too long, angles too hard. He’s not bad looking, just strange, like how a high fashion model can look strange. Oikawa doesn’t recognize him.

“The chat is there,” Iwaizumi is telling his guest, pointing. The guest leans forward to look at the chat that is becoming more active. “There’s no notifications for donations. I don’t like the distraction and I don’t do shit just because people pay for it, especially when I have guests on. We’re only going to do what you feel comfortable with today.”

“I know, I know,” the man says lightly, grinning. “Man, you got some horny viewers. Yeah, my hair is naturally this color, which you’ll see shortly. I trim but don’t shave.”

He lewdly grabs his cock through his gym shorts, tugging it up to show its outline.

Iwaizumi laughs but it sounds more like a snort.

“Introduce yourself. Most people here don’t go on fetish sites.”

Fetish sites? Oikawa isn’t sure he wants to see this. Dildos within the realm of anatomical possibility are one thing, but more extreme things are another. Or maybe it’s some foot thing, or maybe a hand thing? Not his thing either. A lot of his viewers like his feet and they pay to see them so he deals with it.

The guest waves at the camera. “I’m Tendou. I’m going to fuck your lovely host today.”

Oikawa feels a rush of heat. He’s only flicked through Iwaizumi’s videos since subscribing. He’s never seen someone else fuck Iwaizumi. In some of his videos, he uses dildos, other times his fingers, but he’s always by himself. If he has a guest, he does the fucking.

“My page is in the description,” Tendou goes on. “I do a lot of stuff with sex toys. Apparently liking glass dildos shaped like tentacles makes me a fetish performer. It’s the bumbs, really. Oh, and sounding! That’s always fun.”

“Tendou’s here to try and convert me to vibrators,” Iwaizumi says. “No tentacle fucking.”

Does Iwaizumi not use vibrators? Oikawa has a vibrating plug that’s small and doesn’t like to stay in, meaning he has to push it in and out almost like a dildo when using it for shows. It isn’t his favorite, but his viewers like it a lot. The vibrating at his rim is definitely a different sensation. Not quite as nice as rimming, it’s too artificial for that, not warm enough, not enough pressure. Just a different sensation.

Tendou laughs then leans over and kisses Iwaizumi’s neck, murmuring something that the camera doesn’t quite catch, but sounds like, “I brought it anyways.” Iwaizumi tilts his head, letting Tendou kiss his neck while he reads the chat. Oikawa finds himself watching the video instead of the chat next to it.

“Yeah, we can show you what we have picked out,” Iwaizumi says.

Tendou eagerly detaches himself from Iwaizumi and tugs a shoe box into his lap. “We’re keeping it simple. I do have some extra stuff in case Iwaizumi changes his mind, but it sounds like we’re going to use this.”

He takes out a tiny bullet vibe but it doesn’t have the cord attached. Instead it has a remote. Tendou turns on the vibrator and shoves it into Iwaizumi’s face. Iwaizumi grabs it, holding it in his palm for the camera to see while it buzzes away.

Tendou also pulls out a stretchy cock ring with a spot for the vibrator. He says, “You can hold it or keep it strapped near the head. A lot of guys I know use it in edging, but it’s fun when you’re getting fucked too.”

Iwaizumi continues to hold the vibrator even when it’s turned off, turning it around his hand. Tendou pulls out another toy. It’s pale blue in color and long and looks like hard plastic. Maybe five inches insertable length. A little thin compared to most toys people use in shows but with slight waves to it, making it a little thicker at some parts than others. There’s a screw dial on the bottom.

“This one is really rigid,” Tendou says, tapping it against his hand to demonstrate. “There’s no give at all so it can be a bit uncomfortable if you put the whole thing in. But I really like how strong it is. Putting in just an inch or two and turning it on feels awesome at the rim.”

“Those are all the toys for today,” Iwaizumi says. “In a few minutes, you’ll have to be a subscriber or pay to watch the rest.”

Oikawa mutes the stream and opens another tab. He’s not interested in that bit.

He comes back to the stream fifteen minutes later and they’re in the heat of it, kissing and groping. They’ve both stripped down to their underwear, cocks visible against the fabric.

When Tendou pulls out Iwaizumi’s cock, the chat moves a bit faster. Some say it lewdly, others with flowerily terms, others implying it, but they all mean the same thing: Iwaizumi’s got a nice cock. His cock is uncut and average for length but definitely a bit more girthy. It’s heavy and thick and dark in color, proving his tan skin is natural, and perfectly suits the man it’s attached to. His pubs are trimmed but not shaved, another factor that sets him apart. Oikawa didn’t shave before camming, but now he feels like it’s expected for his shows.

There’s this idea that everyone loves big dick and that it feels infinitely better. Does Oikawa like the stretch from time to time, the deepness? Definitely. Does he like it all the time? No way. His ass couldn’t take it and the best fuck he ever had was from someone with a completely average dick.

Iwaizumi sits on the edge of the bed with Tendou pressed against his side. The small vibrator buzzes to life in Tendou’s hand, the remote dropped to the side. Tendou grabs Iwaizumi’s cock in one hand, rolling back the foreskin with his thumb. With his other hand, he brings down the vibrator, circling it around the head Iwaizumi’s hips stutter up, like he’s trying to fuck Tendou’s hand.

“Okay, yeah, I see the appeal,” Iwaizumi says. Then Tendou puts the vibe in his palm and wraps his hand Iwaizumi, holding the vibrator underneath the head. Iwaizumi tries to twist away, but Tendou’s hand doesn’t move. “Fuck. I’m really sensitive there.”

“Too much?” Tendou asks, kissing the crook between Iwaizumi’s shoulder and neck, licking at his tan skin.

“Just don’t hold it there or I’ll come.”

“Gotcha.”

Iwaizumi leans back on his hands and lets Tendou rub the vibrator all over his cock. He moves it slowly along the vein at the bottom from root to tip, then holds it against the crown again as he jerks Iwaizumi off at the base.

“Oh my god, fuck you,” Iwaizumi laughs.

Iwaizumi reaches down and forcibly moves Tendou’s hand away from the head of his cock. After that, Tendou keeps the vibrator along the shaft, though it does stray a bit too high and Iwaizumi jerks every time. Oikawa knows how it feels to touch your cock when your overly sensitive. You want more but at the same time want it to stop. It’s too much, it’s not enough. It makes you crazy.  

Iwaizumi ends up with his face buried in Tendou’s neck, groaning as his hips jerk up to fuck against the vibrator in Tendou’s hand.

His chat is loving it.

 

420suckit: _I want him to fuck my mouth like that_

tequila820: _u guys r so hot this ur first time together?_

rockhardcock69: _image him fucking you_

 

“You want the other one?” Tendou asks. He means the other vibrator, the one that’s thick enough and long enough for penetration.

“Fuck, yes.”

Tendou wetly kisses the head of Iwaizumi’s cock, lapping at the darkened head with his tongue, before sitting up and kissing Iwaizumi on the mouth again. Tendou switches off the smaller vibrator and sets it aside.

With some coxing, Iwaizumi lies on his back, his ass and cock on full display, his legs spread out but feet still planted on the bed. Tendou sits at his hip to avoid blocking the view.

“We already had some fun earlier today and got him ready to take a dick, but we’ll give you guys a quick recap,” Tendou says.

Iwaizumi tosses him a bottle of lube. Tendou generously coats his fingers then rubs some on Iwaizumi’s hole. When Tendou slips his first finger inside, Iwaizumi tilts his head back and spreads his legs further. He reaches down and strokes himself a few times, fingers brushing over his balls, before he moves his hand away.

On a whim, Oikawa types out a message and hits send.

Oikawa really didn’t expect the chat to copy his message and paste it over and over again. It’s a wall of text, the same question repeated again and again, interrupted only by the occasional, surprised exclamation that Oikawa typed in Iwaizumi’s chat.

The crazy movement of the chat on the screen must catch Tendou’s eyes because he pauses and looks over, reading out loud, “Can you come untouched? Your chat really wants to know for some reason.”

Iwaizumi props himself up on his elbows and his face is glorious. He sits up further, Tendou’s finger still in him, and scrolls back up and finds Oikawa’s original message.

“Hey there, King,” Iwaizumi says, grinning. He falls onto his back and rolls his hips down onto Tendou’s finger. “Enjoying the show?”

 

Beautiful_King: _That’s not an answer ;)_

 

“He said, ‘That’s not an answer,’ and used a winky face,” Tendou says.

“Neither was that, King,” Iwaizumi says, laughing. “Yeah, I’ve come untouched. It usually just happens without planning. I don’t think I’ve caught it on camera.”

Tendou makes a low noise, like that makes sense. He leans down and licks at Iwaizumi’s hip before going to his cock, lapping at it with long strokes of his tongue, two fingers pressed inside now. Iwaizumi makes the most beautiful sound when Tendou thrusts his fingers in and wraps his lips around the head of his cock at the same time.

Oikawa can’t blame Iwaizumi. He loves that sensation too. Having your cock wrapped in a wet heat and two fingers in you, not quite full but stretched, no control over how that hand is going to move, not having to worry about your hand cramping around a toy so you can just lay there and enjoy it.

Tendou sits up after a few more teasing licks. “Your turn to answer,” Tendou says, making a show of twisting his fingers inside Iwaizumi. “Enjoying the show?”

 

rockhardcock69: _omg this is the best show ever_

420suckit: _king is probably wishing he could fuck aat himself_

rockhardcock69: _lol aren’t we all_

“We’re waiting,” Tendou says in a sing song voice, drawing out the last word. Iwaizumi laughs again. Tendou goes on, “C’mon, don’t be shy. Iwaizumi’s enjoying it. See?”

Tendou uses his free hand to stroke Iwaizumi’s hard cock a couple of times before palming lightly at the head. Iwaizumi squirms, like he can’t decide whether to focus on his cock or the fingers inside him. Tendou’s staring at the chat, waiting for a response, and Oikawa feels he won’t let up until he gets one.

If he dug his own grave, he may as well lie in it too.

 

Beautiful_King: _Not impressed yet. Sounds like you’re all talk and no walk. Telling me to do it when I bet you can’t even do it yourself._

 

“He’s not impressed,” Tendou says, grinning. “Or maybe he’s trying to flirt and sucks at it because he’s socially inept.”

“That sounds about right,” Iwaizumi says, a little breathless. “If you’re so curious, King, I’ll show you another time.”

“Not now?” Tendou asks with a wicked grin. He shoves his fingers in deep and twists, making Iwaizumi moan again. Tendou keeps his fingers there rubs his thumb along his taint. “I don’t mind a change of plan.”

“Hurry up and fuck me. If it happens, it happens,” Iwaizumi says, reaching up and cradling the back of Tendou’s head. Tendou grins. Iwaizumi tugs him down and kisses him, the sound wet and lewd and slick.

Oikawa clicks out of the video.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa stops by a local sex shop for another bottle of lube. He always goes for a nice, thick water-based lube. He knows silicon lasts longer, but it doesn’t mix with silicon toys and he doesn’t want to worry about what lube he’s grabbing so he keeps it simple. He could order it online, but it’s a small shop, not part of a chain, and they’re always very helpful.

When he first started camming, he had never used a sex toy and as much as read online, nothing helped more than talking to someone in person. He goes to them for everything he needs from lube to condoms to toys. They use simple, discreet packaging and offer free classes on safe sex. He’d give them some free advertising, but he doesn’t want to give away the city he lives in.

Back at his apartment, he sees a monstrously long text from Kageyama in the group chat. It starts off with _Oikawa_ like an old-fashioned letter. He wonders why Kageyama didn’t just text him separately instead of bothering the entire team. How they put up with Kageyama, Oikawa does not know.

The text is a long-winded explanation about this local gym where people go to play volleyball. A mix of men play together—old high school players now in their forties, business men, artists, and apparently Kageyama.

 

Oikawa: _And why should I care about this?_  

Kageyama: _They’re competitive for casual players. I play with them sometimes. They don’t have many setters._

Oikawa: _You don’t get enough at practice?_

Kageyama: _No._

 

So straight-forward.

While the idea of going to a local gym isn’t horrible, the idea of going with Kageyama is. Kageyama rubs him in all the wrong ways. His junior joined the college team just as Oikawa’s chronic knee injury was starting to worsen. The constant fear of being overtaken by someone younger than him pushed him to breaking point. He figures he probably would have busted his knee eventually, but Kageyama’s presence was a catalyst.

 

Kindaichi: _They are pretty good._

Kunimi: _Please go so he stops taking us._

Oikawa: _If I agree to go will you stop texting me for the rest of the night?_

Kunimi: _And stop using the group chat to talk to just Oikawa? The alerts are annoying._

Kageyama: _Yes._

Oikawa: _Fine._

 

He silences his phone and goes to get ready for his stream. He’ll worry about Kageyama’s hard-on for volleyball another time.

He has his pre-show routine down to a science at this point. Double check all locks, windows, curtains, and electronics to make sure the only thing open is his stream. Change his sheets, get a shower, prep for anal, and put on the tightest pair of boxer briefs or just plain briefs that are clean.

Between the anticipation of a good orgasm and his prep in the shower, he’s half hard. He only puts on his boxer briefs, not wanting to deal with stripping tonight. He sits on the bed and loads up his stream and waves at the camera, greeting people as they come in. The regulars are there in full force, asking what the plan was.

“I don’t actually know what I’m doing tonight,” Oikawa says, making himself sound like an air-head. “I was hoping for suggestions. I got myself ready in the shower in case you all wanted to see me filled up…”

 

boytoys12: _always!_

ball_hog: _you could do a p massage like aat said! :D_

 

Oikawa forces a brief laugh. “You guys still remember that? That was, like, thirty seconds from weeks ago!”

 

boytoys12: _hard to forget aat flirting with ur fave cam slut_

ball_hog: _and you brought it up in his stream this week_

SizeKing42: _wait do you watch aat now king??_

Oikawa grows annoyed the s-word. He always does. He’ll do what they want as long as they pay him and it is within his comfort zone, but he doesn’t want to play up the idea that he’s a slut. He doesn’t know if he could handle that.

“Say that again and you’re getting kicked out, boytoy,” Oikawa says, more serious than his usual ditzy persona. “You know the rules.”

 

boytoys12: _sorry king_

Oikawa doesn’t acknowledge their apology.

He greets a few more regulars as they come in then he claps his hands together and asks cheerfully, “What do you all want to see tonight?”

There’s the usual suggestions that jump the gun, getting straight into it. These people have no sense of pace. He reaches down to his tight boxer briefs and strokes himself through the fabric, exaggerating his moans when he plays with the tip.

“Let’s start slow,” Oikawa says, smiling. He snaps the waist of his boxer briefs against his hips. “There’s no rush. You guys have me all to myself for the next hour."

He doesn’t have set donation marks like some people do. There’s no list saying three dollars for him to shake his ass, or anything like that, but everyone knows you’ll have to pay if you really want to see something. It’s always small donations at first, or requests from regulars that he indulges for free, then someone either ups the ante or Oikawa begins pushing the stream forward. He knows people pay to see him at all so he makes sure they get something. They just all know it’ll be a better show if they invest.

This time the push forward is a thirty-dollar donation from a familiar name.

 

HoneyHole30: _blowjob_

 

“Thank you for the good idea and the donation, Honey.”

He crawls over towards his nightstand, making a show of swinging his hips when he’s on his hands and knees. In his nightstand, he pushes aside some toys until he finds the one he has in mind. He goes back towards the camera, holding up the dildo. It’s six and a half inches with balls and veins and a decent crown at the tip that rugs at his rim when he pulls it out. Its flesh colored with pink and red in all the right places. It’s the most realistic thing he has and his absolute favorite.

“Can I use this one, Honey?” Oikawa asks. He holds it up to his face for the size comparison. “Or do you want me to find another?”

 

HoneyHole30: _that one_

 

He slowly licks it from root to tip with the flat of his tongue then moans, licking his lips when he’s done like it’s the most delicious thing in the world and not plastic. He doesn’t mind sucking dick, or fake dick for that matter, but deep throating is out of the question. It’s unattractive to him, receiving and giving. Who wants to watch someone gag? In theory, maybe, but it’s not his thing and he isn’t crossing that line for his viewers. The last thing he wants is to throw up live.

He closes his eyes and sticks to the first few inches, moaning as he bobs his head, letting spit dribble down his chin. He imagines the musk and sweat of a man instead of the smell of plastic. He imagines something heavier, something hotter on his tongue. He hears the chime of a donation, then another, and replaces that sound in his mind with the rough, deep grunts of another person. Soon his moans are honest and his erection strains against the front of his underwear.

Oikawa sets the dildo aside to tug down his boxer briefs, tossing them to the side. He makes a show of licking his palm then wrapping his hand around himself before lying down. With his other hand, he grabs the dildo, and puts the tip to his lips, sucking and licking the head before taking in half of its length. It’s hard to suck dick like this. It makes him gag too easily. It’s uncomfortable. But it looks damn good.

He pulls the dildo out of his mouth with a wet pop and gasps for breath. His entire body feels hot and his head dizzy from slight lack of oxygen. He looks to the chat, forcing himself to take deep breaths strokes himself, twisting his wrist towards the tip and bucking his hips up into it.

 

SizeKing42: _so damn hot_

ball_hog: _hard from sucking dick? not surprised_

 

Oikawa looks to see if Honey is satisfied, unsurprised to see no further messages. They only ever talk when donating.

“My jaw is starting to hurt. I’m so out of practice.”

There’s more than a few lewd suggestions and offers of practice partners. He smiles and lets the head of the dildo drag down his bottom lip. He opens his mouth like he’s eager for it and slides it back in, a little deeper, moaning around its head.

He tugs the dildo out for the last time with a wet pop and a loud gasp, letting out a high-pitched whine like he wants it back. Oikawa sets the dildo aside, his jaw truly aching.

“What should I do next? We still haven’t touched my ass, but I’m so hard already.”

He stands on his knees and faces the camera. It’s not a position he can hold long with his knee, but it shows off his abs and cock, putting them front and center.

Most of the suggestions that come in are asking him to use the dildo, a few asking for his fingers. One or two tell him to just use his hand and tease himself. A lot offer to fuck him, which seems like a waste of text to Oikawa because that’s obviously not going to happen. He waits for someone to donate and ask for something specific. Sometimes people try to out donate one another to get his attention and get him to follow their order.

He hums as he reads over the suggestions, stroking himself slowly. Maybe Honey will want something again. Their donations always scale with the request and are never outside of his comfort zone.

His eyes catch another name.

 

ArmsAndThighs: _do you have beads?_

 

Oikawa’s heart races. He drags his hand down to his balls, squeezing them and tugging gently. Heat coils in his belly. Iwaizumi is watching again? They haven’t interacted since Oikawa watched his stream with Tendou.

“So you _can_ talk about things other than my prostate, Arms,” Oikawa says mirthfully. “I do have anal beads. I’ll use them if you ask nicely.”

Oikawa ignores all the other messages, even the ones from regulars urging him on. A few people donate smaller amounts asking for the toy. People seem to like the idea of beads. He hasn’t used them since the first time he showed them off nearly two months ago. It wasn’t a very popular video so he hasn’t brought them out again. Most people forgot about them.

He waits for Iwaizumi’s response.

 

ArmsAndThighs: _it was just a suggestion since you can’t plan your own streams_

 

Oikawa shifts his jaw, annoyed. He’s interacting, making his viewers feel important, manipulating them into donating without explicitly asking for their money. That was the plan. He’s not some idiot.

He quickly slips back on his mask, his on camera persona, the one that’s desperate to please and not ruthlessly competitive. The one that teases but does what asked in the end.

“You mean you don’t want to see me all filled up?” Oikawa asks, sounding innocently confused. “I got my hole all ready for you, too. You wouldn’t have to stretch me at all. I'm already so loose and wet. It'd be so easy to fill me up."

 

boytoys12: _fuck yes please_

bigboy782: _@aat say you want to fill up that tight ass_

SizeKing42: _i will donate for beads if arms wont say he wants it_

 

Oikawa imagines Iwaizumi sitting on the sofa with his laptop nearby, hard in a pair of sweatpants, like he enjoyed watching Oikawa in his free time. Had he been watching from the beginning, or did he come in just before Oikawa asked for a suggestion?

“I’ll only do it you tell me you want it, Arms.”

For a moment, Oikawa doesn’t think Iwaizumi will respond.

 

ArmsAndThighs: _fine get the damn beads_

 

Oikawa debates whether or not to take that as an answer. It might be the best he’ll get from Iwaizumi. He decides that’s enough. People have been donating small amounts for it too and they’ll only be frustrated if he fails to follow through. 

He returns to his nightstand, grabbing a rod of anal beads and a bottle of lube. There’s six black silicon beads that ascend in size connected by a flexible rod with a loop after the last bead.

When he was looking into beads to buy, he saw a lot that were ten, eleven inches long with just as many beads, but some of the beads were so small. He doesn’t like super deep penetration and he didn’t want to bother with multiple beads smaller than his finger just to reach the thicker ones. The ones he bought start off bigger, but there’s less length to it.

He shows the rod of beads off to the camera, bending it to show its flexibility, before holding up the largest ball. “The biggest is a little over an inch in diameter,” Oikawa says. He wraps his fingers around it like he would a dick. “There are definitely bigger beads out there, but I liked this set the second I saw it. It’s just enough to fill me up.”

He lies on his side, his ass to the camera, knees bent slightly towards his chest. He pulls one of his cheeks up, showing off his hole, newly shaved and still loose from his pre-show prep. He reaches for the lube then, coating his fingers and rubbing it over himself. He presses in two fingers to the second knuckle with a low groan, moving them in and out a few times to show off and tease. After a few minutes, he pulls his fingers out then coats the beads with lube. 

The first bead goes in easy with little resistance. It’s such a strange sensation to him. There’s the stretch at the widest part of the bead, but when it sinks into him, his body and mind seem to be in conflict. With a bead inside of him but only a thin rod to clench around, he feels full but unsatisfied, wanting more sensation and girth at the rim where he’s most sensitive.

He quickly moves on the second bead, a little bigger than the first, but not a stretch with all the prep he did before the show. It’s comfortable. If he was by himself, he may just play with the first two beads, pulling them against his rim before popping them out and slowly pushing them back in just to repeat the process. But people want to see him full and he’s a crowd pleaser.

When he goes to push in the third bead, he pushes it in halfway then lets it slid out, repeating the motion, enjoying the pressure against his rim. It stretches him just right without having to think too much about it. He slowly presses it in, letting it sink into his body with the others.

Then he moves his hand, threading his fingers into the loop at the end, and slowly pops out each bead until he’s empty, moaning at the loss and the feeling of being stretched from the inside out. He rubs his fingers along his loose lube-slicked hole before pressing the first bead back in.

After a while of teasing, of pulling them in and out, he moves to add the fourth ball. The stretch is starting to feel good, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine that curl his toes and make him shiver. The second it’s in, he threads his fingers through the loop and pulls the fourth bead back out, moaning even louder. There’s more resistance than there were with the first three, his body clinging to what’s inside him, not wanting to empty. There’s a lewd, wet sound of the lube when it finally pops out of him. It makes his entire body shake, sensitive like an open nerve. He eagerly pushes it back inside, then yanks it back out and moans. 

The fifth one feels like it’s too much. Not because it’s too thick, but because he feels full already. He doesn’t know what it is about anal beads, but he feels like he’s got a thick seven-inch dildo in him, but it’s only five inches deep and the fifth bead is the first to hit a one-inch diameter.   

He uses more lube, pressing and tugging where his rim is clenching down on the thin rod between beads, each touch electric. He groans as he tries to push the fifth ball in, forcing himself to relax, to bare down. He goes slow, savoring the feeling of pressure as the ball’s diameter increases. Once he gets past the widest point, it slides in easy, his body sucking it in.

He knows the first two are relatively small, and the third and fourth aren’t too bad either, but with the fifth one in there, he feels so deeply full. It’s a different kind of full than a dildo, which is hard and unrelenting. Moans rumble out of his chest as he reaches back and tugs a cheek up, showing off his hole, feeling it twitch around the balls inside him.

And he knows there’s one more left.

“I don’t know if I can,” he says, looking desperately at the camera and chat.

 

bigboy782: _stop bitching and take it_

SizeKing42: _ive seen you take bigger dildos you can do it_

 

He’s so close already, his cock so hard against his thigh. He knows he’ll come the second he gets a hand on himself and starts pulling the beads out.

There’s chime after chime, donation after donation to urge him on, to take the last bead and fill himself. One hand fists at the sheets, the reaching between his legs to grab his hard, wet cock.

He strokes himself slowly, not wanting to come yet, knowing that pulling the beads out after coming would be torture. He’d be wrecked and too sensitive. Taking them out is just as intense if not more so than putting them in.

 

ArmsAndThighs: _breathe and put the last one in_

 

Oikawa’s brain short circuits.

“Just for you, Arms, because you asked so nicely,” he says before burying his face in his sheets. His face is already red, blushed and burning, but it feels hotter and he feels the need to hide his expression.  

He puts more lube on the last ball, making it slip out of his fingers twice before he can bring it to his entrance. The first bit isn’t so bad, the stretch comfortable, but as more of the ball tries to go inside, his body tells him to stop, he can’t, he’s too full. He’s taken thicker and longer things into his body, but his nerves are on fire and it feels like it’s too much.

He closes his eyes and breathes slowly, relaxing, and keeps pushing when he’s ready.

“Feels big,” he murmurs into the sheets, not giving a damn if his audio equipment picks it up. He’s too far gone to worry about the show. Maybe that’s the show, watching him finally lose it for real. No more acting. Just his desperate need to feel good. It’s been awhile since he got this turned on during stream.

He reaches the widest part of the bead, holding it there, his body clenching around the silky silicon. On a deep exhale, he pushes it forward and once he’s past the widest part, it begins to slowly sink into his body with easy. He gasps when his hole clenches around the rod on the other side, squirming at the contrasting sensation of full and thin.

The chime of donations brings his eyes back to the chat. He pulls up his ass cheek to show off the loop hanging out of him, the beads stuffed inside. He wiggles his hips and whines.

In the flurry of text, he sees that name again.

 

ArmsAndThighs: _pull them out_

 

Oikawa wraps one hand around his cock, stroking slow but firm, and grabs the loop at the end of the rod with the other.

He yanks slowly on the beads, pulling out the sixth and fifth beads and then adjusting his grip on the toy and pulling out the rest more quickly. That’s what makes him come.  

When he comes, his mouth hangs open and he makes no sound for a second until a deep, hard moan escapes. He’s twitching all over, his body clenching around nothing, and it’s too much to handle. He tosses the rod of beads to the side and rubs his fingers over his hole, dipping two inside to give himself something to clench on as he comes all over his hand and thighs.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he gasps. 

He can hear the chime of donations.

He pushes himself so he’s sitting up as he catches his breath. There’s cum all over his thighs and hand, and lube everywhere. He feels sticky and empty. This is going to be so annoying to clean.

“That was really fun,” Oikawa says, still trying to catch his breath. He runs his hand through his cum and smears it along his chest. He’s going to have to shower anyways, might as well show off. “Sorry for missing the donations. I was a bit out of it after the fifth one. I really appreciate it!” He smiles and bites at his lower lip, the teasing persona back. “Maybe I should use those again?”

 

boytoys12: _put them back in and go again ;)_

ball_hog: _buy bigger ones_

 

Oikawa lies back down, stretching out his limbs, showing off his flushed, slick body. There’s no more messages from Iwaizumi.

 

* * *

  

Kageyama doesn't forget that Oikawa agreed to come to a local gym with him to play volleyball. Oikawa is a mess of excitement and trepidation. He puts on a loose t-shirt and gym shorts, bringing along a spare change of clothes in his gym bag, and meets Kageyama outside of the gym. It’s a tiny, local place, not a big chain gym. Activity rooms can be rented by the hour and everyone that plays volleyball chips in to get a few hours a week.

Kageyama gives him the worst tour ever through the main hallways as they head towards the rented gym in the back. Even through the door, Oikawa can hear the squeak of sneakers on polished floor and the sound of a ball in the air, and his heart races.

Kageyama unlocks the door with a keycard and holds it open for Oikawa, who scoffs and walks inside. The smell of sweat hits him instantly. He goes to the gym several times a week to work out and strengthen his knee with the exercises he learned during physical therapy, but it’s been ages since he stepped on the wooden court.

There’s maybe three dozen men across two courts. There’s water bottles and bags thrown about along with several carts with too many volleyballs to count.

It’s been months since he last played volleyball. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

They stop at the edge of the first court, Kageyama looking around at the familiar faces while Oikawa takes it all in. He watches the game in front of him. They’re in a volley. The wing spiker is running forward before the setter even has the ball. They can do quicks? Oikawa watches the spiker more closely and all of the air leaves his lungs.

There’s no mistaking who that person is.

It’s been a month since Iwaizumi for spoke in his chat. Oikawa never seriously thought about what would happen if they met in person. 

“That’s Iwaizumi-san,” Kageyama says, the perfect picture of innocence. He must have seen Oikawa staring. “He used to play on a local high school team. Apparently they were pretty good. Do you know him?”

_Why, yes, Tobio-chan, this is the man that told me to stuff my ass full of anal beads earlier in the week and I did it and came so hard I couldn’t think straight._

He has to get out of this situation before Iwaizumi sees him.

Suddenly, there’s the distinct sound of a volleyball nailing someone in the face and then a body hitting the ground, hard. Oikawa and Kageyama both look at the court and see Iwaizumi on the floor, holding a hand up to his face. Either Iwaizumi is a shitty player, or he got distracted.

But Iwaizumi doesn’t stay down for long. He jumps to his feet, nose bleeding like a waterfall, his teammates fussing. He pushes away from them and jogs over, staring at Oikawa. He gives Kageyama a brief look.

“Tobio, can you cover for me?” Iwaizumi asks, gesturing towards the court.

Kageyama nods. He looks awfully confused but doesn’t say anything. He jogs over, taking Iwaizumi’s spot on the court.

“Are you…?” Iwaizumi starts but doesn't finish. He tilts his head back to stall the bleeding. “Don’t take this wrong way, but do you do cam shows?”

“You spend all this time stalking my streams, asking about my prostate, and you don’t even recognize me?”

“I thought you looked familiar when I saw your first video,” Iwaizumi says, a little distantly, ignoring the stalking claims that are definitely an exaggeration. “Everyone here follows the college team. You used to set for them, right? Your quicks were amazing.”

Oikawa blinks. “And you didn’t recognize me? Are you an idiot?”

Iwaizumi scowls. “You never use your name and I’m really bad with faces, okay? Besides, Oikawa Tooru doing cam shows? No one would believe that.”

His flight-or-flight response is telling him to fly away from his awful situation. No one has recognized him in real life before, or if they did, they didn’t say anything. He never uses his name online like Iwaizumi does. He’s somehow avoided meeting anyone up until this point.

But it’s Iwaizumi. Not some creepy fan. Just the guy he has a lot of sexual tension with and half their communities want to see fuck. Just the guy that encouraged him to have a really intense orgasm within the last week.

Just a guy that is way more attractive in real life even with a bloody nose. 

Iwaizumi shoves the pad of his thumb against his bleeding nostril and tilts his head forward and fuck, Oikawa is so screwed.

“You’re so different offline, y’know? I guess we all are, but you especially. I’ve seen you play volleyball. You’re ruthless.”

“That’s not a compliment, you know.”

Iwaizumi smiles, looking at Oikawa with this weird, almost gentle expression. Oikawa realizes he is just a bit taller than Iwaizumi and a small wave of prideful victory takes over.

“Look,” Iwaizumi says, more serious than before. “We can talk and figure out our schedules. That way you can play here and we won’t run into each other.”

“What, can’t handle seeing me in real life?”

“I thought it might make you uncomfortable, all things considering.”

Make _him_ uncomfortable? Why does that sound so one-sided? Like Iwaizumi is better than him, too mature to be uncomfortable at coming face to face with someone you fuck with online?

“Are you sure it’s just me you’re worried about? You looked pretty shocked to see me. So shocked you took a spike to the face.” Oikawa leans forward and whispers, “Tell me, Iwa-chan, did you get off when I put those beads up my ass? I did it just because you asked.”

Oikawa pulls back into his own space and shoves his hands in his pockets, watching this man with a bloody nose and blush across his face.

“Well?” Oikawa prompts, arching an eyebrow. “Did I _woo_ you?”

Iwaizumi shoves his shoulder lightly, laughing, like it’s a guys’ night out at the bar and someone went too far talking about their so-called conquests.

Oikawa figures he knows the answer. He just wishes Iwaizumi would say it himself.

“If you can handle it, I’d love to play volleyball with you,” Iwaizumi says.

“You think you can keep up with me? That’s some confidence.”

Iwaizumi grins. “I know I can.”

Oh, this is not good. Not good at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is completely self indulgent. I'm a sucker for sex toys and sexual tension. I'm still working on this story so let me know what you liked and didn't like and I'll see what I can do ;)


	2. Chapter 2

The world does not end when they met. Iwaizumi does not follow him home to kill him, or profess his love, or ask to sleep with him, or any of the other horror stories he’s thought and heard about. Then again, Iwaizumi isn’t one of his subscribers that talks about fucking him until he can’t breathe or worshipping his ass. Iwaizumi is another streamer playing the game just like Oikawa is. They’re more like co-workers than anything else.

And he’s a total idiot for getting hit in the face with a spike, Oikawa thinks, so there’s that too.

They decide that if they happen to run into each other at the gym, they run into each. They won’t mention their online jobs and will be friendly if they’re on the same team and opponents if they’re opposite teams. They exchange numbers and Oikawa texts him asking about everyone that comes to play at the gym, eager to get to know his opponents and potential teammates. Iwaizumi goes into a good amount of detail, talking about strengths and weaknesses and common teams. Oikawa’s eager to play again, more than he thought he would be, and a part of him hopes he never has to thank Kageyama fucking Tobio for telling him about these people.

That night, he finds a private message waiting for him.

 

 ArmsAndThings: _so no talking about it in public but is online still ok?_

Oikawa considers it. They’ve only talked in each other’s streams a few times, but there’s this whole drama on the site now spreading like teenage gossip. Are Oikawa and Iwaizumi chatting offline? Do they always watch each other’s streams? Do they have private streams for each other, skype calls and dirty talk and strip teases? Has Iwaizumi given Oikawa private lessons on prostate massages?

It’s definitely boosted Oikawa’s numbers since a lot of Iwaizumi’s viewers have started coming to his own channel.

 

Beautiful_King: _Online is fine. Your viewers love me! I can’t abandon my fans._

ArmsAndThings: _you’re the worst_

Beautiful_King: _< 3_

Beautiful_King: _Are you going live tonight? Should I stop by and tease you? I bet your face is all screwed up._

ArmsAndThings: _yeah. do whatever you want. fuck you._

 

Oikawa leaves his laptop on the coffee table then goes to his kitchen to make dinner. By the time he’s done eating and his dishes are clean, Iwaizumi is live.

Iwaizumi is sitting on the edge of his bed, feet on the floor. The camera is set up Iwaizumi’s face is out of view and Oikawa grins widely. Iwaizumi is masculine, a true man of men, but most people don’t want to see a bruised and beaten-up face.

Iwaizumi’s already into it. He’s naked and half-hard as he strokes himself at a leisurely pace, like he’s savoring each tug and swipe of his thumb. A stray hand drags up his chest to flick at his nipple making him groan. He remembers what Iwaizumi once told him about only doing things you enjoy, meaning Iwaizumi is a nipples guy.

Oikawa looks at the chat.

 

420suckit: _how much for ass tonight?_

rockhardcock69: _you gonna do hands free today?_

 

Voice deep and rough, Iwaizumi says, “You’re all obsessed with that lately.” He gives his cock a long, slow tug then reaches down to tug at his balls.

There’s a split in chat—some expressing their desire to suck him or for Iwaizumi to fuck them, and others sticking to the idea of anal and, more specifically, prostates.

A few people donate eagerly and ask for him to use his fingers, but there is no recognition from Iwaizumi. Oikawa wonders if some people get off on that. It’s a _thing_ in Iwaizumi’s chat. When he has a guest, there is no recognition of the chat, or at least very little. Even when it’s a solo performance like tonight, he’ll often ignore requests if it’s not something he wants to do, even if they donate a lot. It drives some people away. Other people seem to enjoy the dynamic, like it’s a game trying to get Iwaizumi to do something for them.

On the rare occasions that Iwaizumi does what someone wants, it’s a big deal and the viewers really enjoy it. Sometimes they’ll rally together, donate a ton of small amounts over the course of a show, and keep pushing a topic until Iwaizumi finally complies, even if it’s something as simple as fingering himself while stroking his cock. Iwaizumi never makes it easy.

Oikawa decides to tease him.

 

Beautiful_King: _I still think you’re lying and you can’t do it._

“Hey there, King,” Iwaizumi greets with a grin. “You’re the most obsessed out of everyone. You like my ass that much?”

There’s a collective effort now to get Iwaizumi to play with his ass. People donate small amounts—one or two dollars, the occasional five—but Iwaizumi doesn’t acknowledge them. There’s an automated bot that thanks them for donating in the chat, but Iwaizumi says nothing.

 

tequila820: _no face???_

“No face today,” Iwaizumi confirms. “Trying something new.”

 

tequila820: _but you have a nice face_

 

Oikawa barely contains his laughter. If they only knew their precious Arms got smacked in the face with a volleyball because he got distracted. His nose is probably bruised along with a bit of his cheek, maybe even under his eye depending on where the ball hit.

Iwaizumi is fully heard, the head swollen and dark when he pulls down his foreskin to thumb at the sensitive head. He makes a low, pleasant sound at the touch.

“That all you have to say tonight King?” Iwaizumi taunts. “I thought you were going to tease me.”

 

Beautiful_King: _I don’t even have to tease you. It’s obvious you can’t do it._

 

“I think you’re ashamed I can and you can’t. Do you need a step-by-step instructional video? Because that can be arranged.”

There’s a few smaller donations, nothing larger than three dollars, and Iwaizumi doesn’t react at all.

 

fatbottomboys: _all these donations and no ass play? fucking rip off_

fatbottomboys: _do you do anything but touch your dick? boring_

 

“Who said I’m _not_ playing with my ass today?” Iwaizumi asks. There’s something about his voice that makes Oikawa shiver in anticipation.

Iwaizumi stands up. His cock is suddenly much closer to the camera but it doesn’t last for long because Iwaizumi turns around and kneels on the edge of the bed, reaching behind him to spread himself. Oikawa’s only ever focused on Iwaizumi’s cock, but he’s got a nice ass. Not as round as Oikawa’s, but not flat. Built with muscle like the rest of him.

Oikawa inhales sharply at the sight of large flat glass circle pressed against his hole. It’s some kind of plug. Oikawa wonders if it’s a standard shape, small but nothing extreme for a cam model like Iwaizumi, or something a bit larger.

There’s a string of chimes from donations. He tugs the plug out slowly and it just keeps coming. It’s way bigger than Oikawa expected. Three, maybe four inches with a bulb that pulls on his rim from the inside before sliding out. The toy tappers so its smaller at the top and thicker at the bottom. Once the largest part is out, the rest slides out with ease.

“Yeah,” he says, voice rough and a little quieter now that he’s not facing the camera, “I thought you guys might enjoy that.”

He rubs the clear glass along his hole several times before slowly pushing it back. When it’s halfway in, he pulls it back out, fucking himself with it. Once it’s fully seated, Iwaizumi comes off the bed and sits back on the edge. He grins as he goes back to stroking his cock.

Oikawa knows what it’s like to have something inside you and not move it. A constant, deep pressure and a pleasant stretch. Sometimes that feeling can be just as good as moving something in and out.

Oikawa’s half hard in his pants, his cock filling out nicely in his underwear. He doesn’t know why he’s so attracted to this man. There’s dozens, no, hundreds of other men like Iwaizumi on the site who are big and strong with dark skin and large hands that switch between bottom and top. There’s so many like him, but Oikawa never gets hard watching them like he does Iwaizumi.

He knows that if he sticks around and watches the rest of the show, he’ll end up coming.

He exits out of the tab before it gets to that point.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa loads onto his site to see his recent ratings. A lot of the people that subscribe to him will miss shows and watch videos after the fact. Other people will buy individual videos that appeal to them rather than paying a larger subscription fee. It’s always good to see which uploaded videos get the most views. He can figure out what people like, what works and what doesn’t.

As he’s looking at his stats, he sees a notification that someone he subscribes to uploaded a video. He’s only subscribed to one person at the moment.

Iwaizumi posted a video titled _No hands_.

Oikawa frowns, confused, because Iwaizumi doesn’t stream this day of the week. It’s a pre-recorded video a few minutes long. Instead of a bed, there’s a hardwood floor with a dildo stuck to it with a suction cup. It’s clear and on the smaller side of average, shining like its already slick. There's a nice ridge that mimics the head of a cock but no veins or other details that make it realistic.

Iwaizumi steps into view and kneels on either side of the dildo. He’s naked and hard, stroking himself, not saying anything, just looking at the camera. The position shows off his thick thighs and the sharp angles on his torso. There’s a clear V from his hips down to his groin, his dark pubic hair trimmed but not too short. There’s dark hair on his arms and legs, too, clearly a man, as if his deep voice and cock weren’t proof enough.

Then he begins to spread his thighs further and reaches behind him to steady the toy. The sound he makes when the tip penetrates him makes Oikawa’s breath stutter and his heart race.

Iwaizumi still doesn’t say anything. He puts his hands on his thighs and begins to ride the toy slowly, his cock bobbing. He’s so hard already. Oikawa would be desperate to come.

He wonders what Iwaizumi thought about when he was jacking off before getting in front of the camera. Did he plan to do this the whole time while thinking about Oikawa? Or did he decide to do it spur of the moment, when he had his hand wrapped around himself in a moment of private pleasure? Had Oikawa entered his thoughts when he was by himself? Is this even about Oikawa? Maybe Iwaizumi just felt like doing this.

No. This is _something_. It has to be.

Oikawa watches, transfixed on Iwaizumi’s cock. It’s so damn hard, straight out in front of him, moving slightly as Iwaizumi bounces up and down, fucking himself. Oikawa stands by his first impression: it’s a nice cock. Oikawa’s longer by at least an inch but Iwaizumi is definitely thicker, dark and heavy as he moves. Oikawa wants to put it in his mouth and suck on it until he comes.

Iwaizumi shifts forward, his hands on the hardwood floor, shifting slightly from the sweat on his palms. He up the pace, his voice louder, rougher. He practically comes off the dildo before going back down fast and hard.

The angle must be just right because Iwaizumi fingers curl under his palms into fists and his moan is so deep Oikawa can practically feel it rumbling in his own chest. His eyes are closed, his head tilted forward, obscuring most of his face. He looks… lost. Lost in his thoughts. Lost in the pleasure. Like no one is watching, like he’s doing this for himself, like it’s all about feeling good and nothing else matters. Oikawa wonders what he’s thinking about. Is he thinking about the pleasure, or is he imaging a person fucking him?

Then, without even touching his cock, he’s coming.

Not moaning, or groaning, but short, gasping sounds. Oikawa is sure that if Iwaizumi wanted to groan out, he wouldn’t be able to make a full sound, his chest too tight and breath caught in his throat.

It isn’t a huge load, but it’s thick and drips out of him as he keeps fucking himself. He finally stops moving, the toy shoved deep in him, his cock visibly twitching as one last drop of cum dribbles out, not a hand on it.

Iwaizumi leans forward on his elbows. The toy slips out of him and his face is much closer to the camera. He looks wrecked and well-fucked and Oikawa’s heart won’t slow down.

Not for the first time, Oikawa thinks, _He’s gorgeous._

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi curses, but he’s smiling. He looks so damn happy. He even laughs a bit. Looking straight at the camera, he says, “Your turn.”

 

* * *

 

Oikawa never turns back from a challenge. Then again, there’s the issue of his knee. There’s no way his knee will behave if he kneels like that on a hard wood floor. Even on a bed, he’d have to shift his weight uncomfortably if he held the position for too long. If he wore his brace, maybe he could get away with it, but a brace is definitely not sexy. His back is far more comfortable, or even his stomach. Anything but his knees.

Iwaizumi gives him out in a private message, but Oikawa doesn’t take it.

 

ArmsAndThighs: _don’t do it if you don’t want to_

 

What he wants is to beat Iwaizumi at his own game, to show him up. So, he does some research, determined that Iwaizumi will not one-up him. Not in volleyball and not in camming.

He wonders if he should do it live or offline and post it later, like Iwaizumi did. He wonders if he should do it privately and just message it to Iwaizumi, only Iwaizumi, just to get a rise out of him.

What would Iwaizumi look like next time they ran into each other at the gym? He’d been flustered when Oikawa mentioned the beads. How red would he get this time? The idea turns him on more than it should.

A day later, after some more thought, he decides to record the video, not wanting to fail or get frustrated in front of hundreds of people. He also decides to use his favorite toy, a nice six and a half-inch realistic dildo with balls that make it easy to hold and maneuver. If he’s going to do this, it has to be with this toy.

He sets up his camera and audio equipment, checks the lighting, and then gets to work. He skips the strip tease and usual flare, choosing to sit on his bed as he works his soft cock to hardness. Eventually he rolls onto his side, slicking his fingers with lube and working himself open. By the time he's got two fingers three knuckles deep, he's so hard it nearly hurts. His cock is so warm and wet, and all he wants is to come. As hard as it is, he stops touching his cock, using only his fingers for a little while longer before replacing them with his favorite toy. 

The dildo is a comfortable fullness, one he's used to. He's lost count of how many times he's come on this toy, but he knows he's always had a hand on his cock, or at the very least a had his cock rubbing against the sheets and hard mattress beneath. He's lost some of his hardness by the time the toy is in the whole way and he spends a moment stroking himself before thrusting the toy in and out. It takes a second to find his prostate in this position but when he does, he takes his hand off his cock. 

One hour later, his arm aches like hell and he still hasn't come. He doesn't even want to come by the end, so sensitive and fucked out and tired. He curses to hell and back, cleans his toy, and erases all footage of his failed attempt before taking a long bath and drinking far too much wine.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa missed volleyball more than he realized. He’ll never be able to play like he used, not with his knee. The surgery and physical therapy had helped, but it would never be the same. There’s too much trauma, too much scar tissue. But if he takes it easy and doesn’t do his jump serves or run after ever stray ball, he should be fine.

His physical therapist told him this weeks ago during his last session, but he still avoided the court. Now that he’s back on it, he doesn’t want to leave. Everyone playing knows each other and are friends, but they accept Oikawa to their team with open arms. Kageyama meant it when he said they were short on setters. They invite him to practice twice a week—sometimes he goes, sometimes he doesn’t, but he always lets them know ahead of time and arranges to help pay his portion of the rental fee for the gym.

The next time Iwaizumi and Oikawa are at the gym at the same time, they’re playing on opposite teams. Iwaizumi is calm, like he didn’t fuck himself and challenge Oikawa to do the same.

Oikawa crushes Iwaizumi’s team, even with a brace on his busted knee.

He’s drenched in sweat, using his shirt to wipe it off his face. There’s a burn in his thighs that he missed, a slight sting to his palm from serving. Even if he’s holding off on his jump serves to protect his knee, his overhand serves are strong and the harsh smack of the ball is a welcome, familiar pain.

Iwaizumi is on the other side of the net, hands on his knees, panting from running after that last spike. He didn’t quite make it.

“It’s like playing against Kageyama,” another man says.

“Who do you think taught him?” Oikawa asks smugly.

There’s a wave of laughter.

Oikawa’s new teammates gather around him, slapping him on the back and shoulders, one smacking his ass. Oikawa yelps and jumps forward, reaching behind to grab his ass, his face red. They all laugh but the guy says, “Shit. Sorry. Force of habit. I won’t do it again if you’re uncomfortable.”

Oikawa waves it off. “I was just surprised.”

Iwaizumi ducks under the net and holds out his hand, smiling widely. “Good game.”

Oikawa shakes his hand. “Yeah. You too.”

Both teams shower and change then head to a local bar for beer and cheap food. The place smells like smoke and grease and burned food. They sit in a booth in the corner and the waitress recognizes them. Apparently they always come here after a game, laughing loudly, ordering drinks, and eating more food than they should. Oikawa sits with them, laughing just as loud, Iwaizumi watching him from the other side of the table and spitting out his beer at one of Oikawa’s jokes.

It’s been so long since Oikawa felt this good.

People leave. Others show up. At some point, Iwaizumi slides over and sits next to Oikawa.

“Have you tried it?” Iwaizumi asks, watching him intently.

“Tried what?”

“You know.”

Oikawa can smell the beer on his breath. They’ve both had one too many, or they wouldn’t be talking about this in public. It’s not like anyone can hear them over the music and noise of the bar, but it’s still against their agreement.

The liquor thrums warmly in Oikawa’s veins. He leans his weight against the plush back of the booth, his body tilted towards Iwaizumi to ward off anyone that wanted to intervene and interrupt their conversation. Iwaizumi’s got his arm on the back of the booth and Oikawa’s head is just a few inches from lying on it.

“I can’t stand on my knees for long,” Oikawa says. Iwaizumi nods, listening. “I tried on my side, but my arm cramped.”

“Were you close to coming when you started? That can help if you’re not used to the feeling.”

“I think I got close a few times, but I couldn’t come.”

“I can’t do it unless I’m already close. If your arm cramps, slow down and play with yourself until you’re close then try again. It’s not a race.”

“You only say that because you came so quick in your video.” Oikawa smiles and tilts his head against the back of the booth. “Quick Shot Iwa-chan.”

“Hey, I was hard for a long time and was on edge.” Iwaizumi shoves him then reaches for his glass of beer, only to realize its empty. He looks at the pitcher and sees that’s empty too. “Fuck. We’re out of beer. I’m going to get more. You want anything?”

Oikawa shakes his head. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t watch Iwaizumi as he walked away.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa’s next show is a long, drawn out tease. He starts fully clothes and slowly strips, dancing to lewd popular music in his underwear, which he takes forever to take off. He’ll flash his ass or cock but always pull the fabric back up until his chat is dying with anticipation. They all know they’ll see him come, it’s just a matter of when.

He answers questions he usually ignores, which everyone seems to enjoy. Biggest dick he’s sucked (seven inches), when he lost his virginity (seventeen), biggest dick he’s taken (also seven inches), type of guy he likes (manly but he's flexible), favorite position (doggy or missionary), if he masturbates with toys off stream (of course, he says with a smile).

When the underwear finally comes off and he gets a hand around himself, it feels like the best damn thing in the world. He lies on his bed and spreads his legs for the camera, making as much noise as he thinks he can get away with, which is quite a lot. He’s always louder in his streams than he is in real life and tonight he’s just a bit louder than normal.

He needs more than his hand, more than an empty bedroom. He wants someone above him, or below him, someone to grab his hips and kiss his neck, kiss his mouth. He turns his head and tries to bury his face in the sheets, gasping wetly.

It’d been so long since he’d been with someone else. Before he started camming. Sometime before he blew out his knee. It’s definitely been over six months.

The last time was some guy at a house party in a bathroom, tequila on his tongue. Kindaichi was in the hallway and needed to piss, pounding on the locked door, but Oikawa had this guy sitting on the edge of the tub. He was from the basketball team, or maybe just a fan of the team. Oikawa knelt on the mat on the floor, rolled a condom down his cock, and sucked him until he came. Then guy tugged him to his lap and kissed him, and kept kissing him, touching him all over as Oikawa jerked off between them, the head of his cock rubbing against the guy’s stomach.

“I wanna fuck someone,” Oikawa says, caught up in it, chasing the taste of tequila that isn’t there. It had been so quick. He hadn’t enjoyed it enough. He wanted something slow.

He thinks about the last time he had someone in him, someone hot and real, not a plastic toy. Someone kissing his neck, touching his cock, whispering into his ear. He can’t even remember.

Instead he thinks of large, tan hands—one cradling the back of his head, the other stroking him. Dark hair, dark eyes. Thick but not too deep, slow thrusts but with stretch and force that knocks the air out of his lungs. It would feel so good. Maybe he could finally come untouched if someone else was fucking him.

Then there’s the sound of a donation and he was brought back to the moment. The moment where he is being paid to be objectified, to be watched at his most vulnerable. It doesn’t matter what his fantasy is. He is the fantasy. This is for them, not him.

He opens his eyes to look at the chat.

 

SizeKing42: _fuck_ _or get fucked?_

420suckit: _I’ll fuck you so hard you’re gagging on it_

bigboy782: _I’m so fucking close_ _come on and shoot ur load already_

 

Oikawa lets out a low, long moan. He slows his hand, squeezing towards the tip of his cock, letting his pleasure show openly on his face. He still wants to come. He wants to come so fucking bad.

Oikawa gives the camera his best bedroom eyes. “Fucking, getting fucked—I don’t care,” Oikawa says. “I like both with the right person.”

He wonders if Iwaizumi is watching. He hasn’t said anything in chat if he is. Lately Oikawa will watch Iwaizumi’s streams and not say anything. He doesn’t know why. Sometimes he gets off, other times he doesn’t, clicking out when he starts to get hard because he’s confused and frustrated by his attraction to his man. When he does get off, though, he always debates sending Iwaizumi a message telling him. He hasn’t yet. He doesn’t think he will.

The Iwaizumi on stream, ArmsAndThighs, is an exaggerated version of the man himself. Iwaizumi is intense, and confident, and a bit of an idiot, in Oikawa’s opinion. But that personality is multiplied by a thousand when he streams. He’s more intense, more controlling, and confident to the point of cockiness. The subtle, gentle kindness that Iwaizumi has is overshadowed by Arms’ control and sexual bravado. In terms of personality, Arms fails in comparison to the real thing.

There’s a special chime telling him he just got a large donation. He looks and sees a fifty-dollar donation.

 

HoneyHole30: _fingers?_

 

“You want to see me open myself up for you? I can do that, Honey. Is just one okay? I’ll have to get up and get lube if you want more.”

 

HoneyHole30: _one is fine_

 

He licks the fingers on his other hand and brings it down below his balls, pressing at his hole. He doesn’t have lube, and spit doesn’t do much. It dries too quickly. The friction of the rough drag of skin against skin feels foreign. He still manages to press his middle finger in with relative ease, pulling it out to the tip before pushing back in to the second knuckle.

The tug on his rim and the warm palm against his balls is enough to push him over the edge. He comes across his stomach with a long moan as he rides out his orgasm. A hard, tan face flicks through his mind as he comes and he really doesn’t want to think about what that means.

He rolls onto his stomach and smiles. “Honey, your idea made me come! Thank you.” He kicks his legs back and forth and pouts a bit. “I’m still horny, though. Do you guys think I should try for another?”

The response is instantaneous.

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi texts him a week later, which takes him by surprise. They’ve had each other’s numbers since meeting at the gym, but rarely use them. If they talk, it’s in a larger group chat planning volleyball matches or privately online. Or, in rarer cases, it’s when they stop by each other’s stream.

 

Iwaizumi: _no idea if you know him but_ _Kuroo and I are doing a show together and he’s going to be in town for a while if you want to hang out._

Oikawa: _Sure. I’ll join so he doesn’t have to suffer being alone with you!_

Iwaizumi: _fuck off._

Oikawa: _Text me when you have the details figured out._

 

Apparently, the details were figured out. Kuroo is already in town, staying in Iwaizumi’s apartment. So later that night, Oikawa goes to Iwaizumi’s apartment for the first time. Iwaizumi greets him at the door and lets him in, leaving it up to him about whether or not he takes off his shoes. He sees a pile near the door and decides to take his off, padding into Iwaizumi’s apartment in his socks.

He expected Iwaizumi’s apartment to be rougher like the man himself. It’s surprisingly normal with a television and two different gaming systems, a large gray sofa and a smaller armchair that looks like it came from a thrift store, and a bit of clutter.

Kuroo is already there when Oikawa arrives, sitting on the sofa with a cheap beer in hand. Part of Oikawa already knew that Kuroo was tall from watching his older video with Iwaizumi, but he hadn’t consciously thought about it until now. He’s got on jeans and a tank top, completely casual and at ease.

Kuroo waves his beer at Oikawa, who waves in return.

“Iwaizumi was just telling me about you,” Kuroo says. “I can’t believe you guys met offline at a gym.”

Oikawa sits in an armchair near the sofa, tugging his legs up onto it. “Yeah. Small world.”

“It’s some romance novel shit,” Kuroo says with a snicker.

Iwaizumi disappears around the corner and comes back with two more beers, one for himself and one which he hands to Oikawa. Iwaizumi sits next to Kuroo, throwing his arm over the back of the sofa and crossing his legs. It’s just sitting, a completely normal position, and shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

“How did you two meet?” Oikawa asks.

“Online,” Kuroo says. “I was looking for people to stream with and found him. We’ve known each other for, what, seven months now?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Something like that.”

“This is only our second time doing a show together.” Kuroo takes a sip of his beer then says, “I’ve heard you two watch each other’s shows. Is it a gimmick, or are you two really jerking off to each other?”

Iwaizumi punches Kuroo lightly on the shoulder.

“Have you gotten off to me, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks, using his camera persona.

“I hate when you talk like that,” Iwaizumi responds.

Oikawa blinks, taken off guard. He sets his beer on the coffee table—“Coaster,” Iwaizumi says, irritated—then he smiles and flings himself at Iwaizumi, straddling his lap and tossing his arms around his neck.

“Iwa-chan is shy,” Oikawa teases, still in persona.

Iwaizumi groans and pushes at Oikawa’s chest with the hand that isn’t holding his beer, but Oikawa doesn’t budge.

“I’m not shy,” Iwaizumi says, shoving a little harder. “It just sounds fake and you shouldn’t be fake around your friends.”

Oikawa drops away the fake, flirty smile and looks at Iwaizumi, really looks at him, taking in the expression his face and the cut of his jaw. Oikawa swallows thickly as a heavy heat pools in his belly.

Iwaizumi gives and changes tactics. He decides to beat Oikawa at his own game. He wraps his arm around Oikawa’s waist, pulling him closer and not letting go. Iwaizumi is warm like a furnace, his arms like iron bars, his scent intoxicating. Oikawa’s mind and dick tell him to abort, quick, before this gets awkward.

Oikawa squirms in an attempt to get away, but Iwaizumi is laughing and having none of that. He even takes a sip of his beer over Oikawa’s shoulder. Kuroo is laughing off to the side, too. Oikawa sags in Iwaizumi’s lap, puts his lips to his neck, and blows out wetly. That does the trick. Iwaizumi’s arms ease up and Oikawa steps out of his lap, returning to his spot in the armchair.

Oikawa is glad the conversation moves on because he doesn’t know how he would answer. He doesn’t watch every one of Iwaizumi’s streams, but he has watched some. In the beginning, he watched a lot of his archived videos, too. He’s gotten off to him more than he should. He still has no idea if Iwaizumi has ever gotten off to him.

Kuroo, Oikawa discovers as the night progresses, is a cool guy. He’s the same age as Iwaizumi and Oikawa and just graduated college. He only does camming to pay off his student loans. He works in the biomedical industry as a low-level research grunt, but he seems to love it. He wants to go back and get his PhD one day but needs more experience in the lab.

They get dinner downtown then hit a popular bar for drinks and dancing. It’s one of those places with music so loud you can barely hear yourself but everyone there is ruthlessly attractive. The lights are dark and your eyes strain to see until the lights flash different colors. Even then, it’s like you can only make out shadows. Two rounds of shots later, Iwaizumi taps out of hard liquor while Oikawa and Kuroo keep going. Iwaizumi drinks his beer, watches them take another shot.

“Don’t get too drunk,” Iwaizumi says. “I’m not carrying your asses home.”

Kuroo wraps his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, kisses him below the ear, and says, “I bet you would if we ask nicely.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and gently pushes him away.

Iwaizumi sits at the bar nursing his beer while Kuroo and Oikawa dance, both taking the opportunity to update their snapchats for their viewers. They get some good aerial shots of Oikawa grinding his ass against Kuroo’s groin while they dance to something loud and lewd, and Oikawa gets a funny video of Kuroo dropping down to the ground in a squat and falling on his drunken ass, which Kuroo insists on posting with the caption _I party like I fuck: until I pass out_.

Like Iwaizumi, Kuroo’s camming persona is an exaggerated version of himself. Kuroo is a fun guy with a wicked sense of humor. Online, he’s adventurous and willing to try nearly anything at least once. Oikawa can’t imagine Kuroo’s camming persona in real life. Real life Kuroo is enough to handle after six shots in two hours. He’s can’t imagine someone any wilder.

It’s the most fun Oikawa’s had in a while, even if his hangover the next morning tries to convince him otherwise. He wakes up only when sun streams in through his blinds, thankful he doesn’t have anything to do today but hit the gym and pick up groceries. Even after waking up, he doesn’t move until he hears his phone on his nightstand.

 

Kuroo: _Got your number from Iwaizumi. Hope that’s okay. I wanted to say thanks for showing me a good time last night._

Oikawa: _No problem!_ _Hopefully Iwaizumi will show you a good time tonight ;)_

Kuroo: _He fucking better. We’ve been planning this for a month and if I don’t get fucked within an inch of my life, I’m throwing a riot. Or maybe I’ll just stop by your place lol_

Kuroo: _Are you strictly a bottom or do you top? Just curious_

Oikawa: _My viewers like me as a bottom but I do both offline._

Kuroo: _Same. If you ever wanna work together let me know._ _I think we’d have a lot of fun :)_

Oikawa has never worked with someone else on stream before. He knows it would widen his audience and provide a nice change from him masturbating, but he still doesn’t know how he feels about it. Masturbating for money is one thing, but having sex? He’s already conflicted about his job. He doesn’t think having sex with someone else on camera would help that. 

Oikawa doesn’t watch their show, but they all meet for breakfast the morning after and Oikawa is told it went really well. Kuroo is practically glowing, completely relaxed. The picture-perfect definition of well fucked.

Later that day they take Kuroo to the bus station and send him off. Afterwards, Iwaizumi drops Oikawa off at his apartment. Iwaizumi looks at him like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa starts off his stream with a loose t-shirt that hangs off his shoulder and a pair of gray boxer briefs that hug every curve of his ass and show the outline of his soft cock. He welcomes regulars as they come in and greets newcomers. There’s a ten-dollar donation quickly from Honey.

 

HoneyHole30: _shirt off?_

 

Oikawa smiles. “Eager today, huh, Honey? I guess I can for you. It was going to come off anyways.”

He takes his shirt off slowly, making a show of it, and tosses it to the side. He moves his upper body back and forth like he’s rocking to non-existent music as he reads the chat. He rubs the heel of his palm to the base of his cock to get himself going then slowly strokes his soft cock through his underwear.

 

Boytoys12: _where is arms? haven’t seen him here lately_

ball_hog: _@boytoy bet hes jerking off to king like the rest of us_

Boytoys12: _but he hasn’t been in chat in a while_

A thought comes to Oikawa and he grins wickedly. He watches as a few more people begin to ask about Iwaizumi.

“Do you guys want me to call him?” Oikawa asks. “I have his phone number. We can ask if he’s watching.”

 

SizeKing42: _holy shIT YES_

Boytoys12: _call him or no balls_

 

Oikawa crawls towards his nightstand where his phone is on silent. He crawls back over and scrolls through his contacts as his chat freaks out that he’s actually doing it. Oikawa presses his number, holds his phone up to his ear, and puts a finger to his lips as he winks at the chat like he’s going _shh_.

As the phone rings, Oikawa thinks that Iwaizumi may aim all of his spikes at him for the foreseeable future.

“Aren’t you streaming?” Iwaizumi finally answers.

“If you promise to behave, I’ll put you on speaker and you can hang out with us,” Oikawa says, hoping Iwaizumi gets his meaning. _Don’t use my name. If you want out, get out now._

“I’m more worried about you behaving,” Iwaizumi says. He sighs. “Fine. Put me on speaker.”

Oikawa grins and puts his phone on speaker. “Say hi, Arms.”

“Why are you calling me?” Iwaizumi asks, sounding more irritated than he did a second ago. It’s not Iwaizumi, but Arms. “Having trouble deciding what to do again because you’re a horrible cam model?”

“Rude!” Oikawa gasps, playing it up. He can’t believe Iwaizumi agreed to this.

 

ball_hog: _is that really him??_

SizeKing42: _YESSS_

Boytoys12: _brb im dying_

 

“Everyone says hi. They were wondering why you haven’t been chatting with me lately. They miss you.”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Right. ‘ _They_.’”

“It’s true. They’re wondering why you haven’t ravaged me on camera and made me come without touching my cock. They think you’re neglecting me.”

“What? You need another lesson on coming untouched?”

That gives his chat something to focus on. After a short delay, there’s a list of questions and exclamations. _Has he milked you? Have you two fucked? You guys are so hot together._  

Oikawa hasn’t tried coming untouched since the last time.

“I’m working on it,” Oikawa says. “I like playing with my cock too much. If I had someone to do it for me, it’d be so much easier, don’t you think? Hmm. I wonder who I could find…”

“You’re shit at dirty talk.”

“But I bet you’re hard, aren’t you?”

It doesn’t matter if Iwaizumi is actually hard. No one can see him. All they can hear is his voice.

“Isn’t this stream about you, not me?” Iwaizumi replies.

“You’re hard, aren’t you? Were you watching me when I called?” Oikawa switches to his knees, tugging down the waistband of his underwear a few inches but pulling back up just before it shows his soft length. “I bet you were.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because that means you’re watching me without talking and that’s just mean.”

The phone is resting on the bed close enough to his equipment for the audio to pick up Iwaizumi’s voice. Oikawa drags down his underwear again, showing the first few inches of his bare half-hard cock before pulling the fabric back up.

“Do you want to watch me strip?” he asks, not aiming it at Iwaizumi or the chat. He’ll see which one has a more interesting answer.

“Do what you want,” Iwaizumi says, but the chat predictably says yes.

He puts a few pillows in the middle of the bed behind him so that when he lies down later, he’s slightly propped up and his face is visible. For now he stands on his knees and rolls his body from side to side like its made of liquid and slowly strips out of his underwear. He turns around and flashes his ass briefly before facing the camera again. He flicks his underwear over the camera with a grin and lies back against the pillows, stroking his half-hard cock and savoring the rough drag of skin on skin. He usually uses lube to touch himself, but once he’s hard he’ll start dripping pre-cum and that will help.

“Are you touching yourself?” Oikawa asks, again at either Iwaizumi or the chat.

It’s Iwaizumi that answers. “Why, do you want me to?”

Oikawa smiles slyly at the camera, bringing his free hand up to flick at his nipples while the other slowly twists around his fully hard cock.

“Yeah,” Oikawa says. “I want you to touch yourself. Will you think of me when you do it?”

“Hard not to with you chattering away in my ear.”

 

SizeKing42: _looking good king nice cock as always_

ball_hog: _I would love to get my mouth around you_

Boytoys12: _can you imagine THE king calling you for phone sex and not being into it?? is arms even gay???_

 

“What are you wearing?” Oikawa prompts.

“You really are the worst at this, aren’t you?” Iwaizumi asks dryly.

Oikawa knows it Arms, not Iwaizumi, saying this, but he still gets annoyed. Oikawa is much better at this than King, who is a bit airheaded.

“Then why don’t you talk?” Oikawa asks.

Iwaizumi makes a low, rumbling noise that sends a rush of blood to Oikawa’s quickly hardening cock. “What do you want me to talk about? The weather?”

Oikawa whimpers as he strokes himself. “If you aren’t going to play along, I’ll hang up. My viewers will talk to me.”

“Would you rather I talk about what I want to do you?”

Oikawa moans. “Yes, that.”

“There’s a lot I want to do to you. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Oikawa inhales and gives his cock a long, hard tug. He wonders how to approach it. He decides to be direct. There is no such thing as subtle in a cam show.  

“If you were here, would you fuck me?” Oikawa asks, biting his lip, playing it up.

“I’d rather you fuck me.”

Oikawa takes a full two seconds to process the statement then he’s moaning and twisting his fist around the head of his cock. He pictures Iwaizumi on all fours, head down and ass up, reaching around to spread himself for Oikawa. He imagines sliding into him and how tight Iwaizumi would be, how good he’d look stretched around Oikawa’s cock. A big, strong man like that moaning and thrusting back, desperate for a hard fuck.

Then the image changes to something less porn-induced. Iwaizumi on his back on Oikawa’s bed, thighs spread across Oikawa’s hips, holding each other close and kissing as they gasp and moan at how good it feels. Iwaizumi’s hands in his hair, lips at his neck, moans in his ear. Gasps of _feels so good_ and _Tooru, Tooru, I’m gonna come_.

“I’d fuck you so good,” Oikawa says, lost in the thought.

Iwaizumi chuckles, the sound short and deep and incredibly sexy. “Real eloquent.”

“I didn’t know you knew three syllable words.” Oikawa reaches down with his free hand to tug at his balls, groaning at the sensation. “I also didn’t know you wanted my cock. All this time, I thought you only wanted me for my ass.”

“I still want your ass,” Iwaizumi says and it almost sounds like a promise, “but you know how to move your hips. I bet you’d be a great fuck.”

Is it just his camming persona that wants him, or does the real Iwaizumi want him to? Oikawa doesn’t care. He’d take either, whatever Iwaizumi is willing to give.

“You should get a fleshlight and fuck it on stream,” Iwaizumi says, voice raspier. Is he actually touching himself? “One of those clear ones so we can watch your dick as you fuck. Everyone watching won’t know whether they want to fuck you or be fucked by you.”

“Fuck,” Oikawa curses.

“But you would want to be fucked first, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Oikawa gasps. “Fuck, yes, fuck me.”

Iwaizumi laughs, the sound pleasantly deep. “You got any toys nearby to fill you up?”

“I—yeah. Give me a second.”

He crawls towards his nightstand to pick up a bottle of lube along with a dildo. It’s not his favorite realistic one, but a smaller, slick black one. It curves slightly and has a large, bulbous head. He thinks it was intended to be used by women, but he loves it. It’s smooth and the head stretches him just right going in before narrowing slightly and once it’s inside, that head presses up against his prostate. He likes the feel of his realistic dildo more, but he has nothing against this black one.

He sets himself back in front of his camera, showing off the dildo to his camera. He reads over the chat, wondering if they’re enjoying this or annoyed that he’s not giving them his attention. A few newer names he doesn’t recognize seem annoyed that Oikawa isn’t listening to the chat like he usually does, but most of the regulars are saying it’s hot. As long as he’s touching himself and talking dirty, he’s sure they’ll enjoy it in the end.

He preps before every show which makes it easy to lube up the toy and slide it in without preamble. Usually he fingers himself a bit, or if he goes straight to the toy, he complains that it’s too big and he can’t take it, but tonight he’s too turned on and too far gone to worry about that. His desperation is probably evident as he lies on his back, hands between his legs, one of his cock and one on the toy inside him.

“I’m nice and full,” Oikawa says, slowly working the toy in and out. The curve of the toy hits him right on the prostate and he moans, head tossed back and toes curling in the sheets. “God, fuck me already.”

“I bet it’s not as big as me, is it?” Iwaizumi asks.

“If it was, would you be jealous?”

“Jealous of silicone? No.”

“You sound jealous.”

“And you sound like someone that needs to hurry up and fuck themself.”

Oikawa fights the urge to laugh. He bites his lower lip to control himself, giving the camera his best bedroom eyes. He wants them to imagine he’s looking at them. He wants them to think he is doing this all for them.

Oikawa begins to work the toy in and out, first in brief shallow thrusts, then pulling it almost the entire way out and ramming it back in. He curses and moans and wiggles his hips and fucks up into his fist before fucking back onto the toy. He knows how to exaggerate and not be ridiculous.

Usually he can last a long time, but with Iwaizumi panting in his ear, he’s quicker today. He’s hard and leaking and his balls are drawn up tight against his body ready to spill. He glances at the clock on his laptop and see it’s been nearly thirty minutes since he started stream. He could come soon and do a longer stream next time to make up for it.

He just wants to come, damn the consequences.

“I’m close,” Oikawa gasps.

“Don’t touch yourself.”

Oikawa shivers from his head to his toes. He takes his hand off his cock, resting it on his chest because he doesn’t know what else to do with it. Each thrust of the toy sends jolts through his body. It’s a deep, warm pressure that heats his cock and tightens in his balls. He wants to touch his cock and come. He doesn’t know how that pressure alone would be enough to make him come.

“Good. Relax and let it happen,” Iwaizumi urges.  

Iwaizumi knew he stopped touching himself, Oikawa thinks. Iwaizumi _is_ watching him. He probably has the stream muted so he doesn’t get double audio. How long has he been watching? Before or after Oikawa called?

“Don’t fight it. It’s going to feel different, but good. Damn, I wish I was the one fucking you.”

Oikawa whines, actually whines, and he doesn’t even care. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d drag your ass onto my cock, fuck you until you come all over yourself without a hand on you. Someone fucking you through it feels better than a toy. You can feel them pressed up against your ass and you can’t do anything but lie there and take it.”

Oikawa draws his hips up slightly curling his legs towards his chest until his feet come off the bed. The angle bares his ass fully to the camera. Suddenly every stroke of his dildo is hitting his prostate dead on, and he works the dildo in faster, desperate for it, desperate for the pressure, desperate to come. His arm is cramped from the speed and angle and it nearly locks up on him, but he doesn’t stop. His cock is so damn hard on his stomach, so hot he can hardly believe it. He wants to touch himself so bad. He needs to come, the pressure and heat driving him insane. He feels like he’s going to explode.

“Don’t fight it,” Iwaizumi says again. “The pressure just means you’re close.”

Oikawa doesn’t know how his hand moves any faster, but it does. Every stroke of the dildo inside him hits his prostate and the pressure builds. He can’t stop the twitch of his hips as he fucks down onto the toy, desperately chasing that sensation. He can’t control the fucked-out noises coming from his mouth. He must sound wrecked. He feels wrecked.

“I know you want to come. Just let it happen. _Come_.”

Oikawa’s never been one to come on demand, but he comes. Like a tidal wave, the pressure releases and his body shudders as his cock jerks against his stomach without a hand on it. As the first spurt of thick white cum spills from him, he slams his feet back onto the bed and reaches for his cock. He jerks himself through the rest of it, the pressure dissipating until all that’s left is a mindless pleasure.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi curses on the phone. His breath is hard and fast. “Fuck that was hot.”

There’s a low grunt and Oikawa thinks, _He’s coming too._

The feeling of a regular orgasm doesn’t last long. This one is no different. A few seconds after it’s done, he’s tired, every inch of his body limp and warm, and the dildo no longer feels comfortable inside him. He slowly pulls out the toy, setting it to the side, and looks at his chat.

There’s a thirty-dollar donation from SizeKing42 and a message saying: _you finally did it!_

“Thank you, Size,” Oikawa says, his voice wavering slightly.

He sits up, rubbing his cum across his stomach and showing off his softening cock. He’s panting and sweaty and feels boneless. The aftermath is like any other orgasm, but damn that had been good.

 

ball_hog: _how’d it feel?_

 

“A lot of pressure,” Oikawa says. He shakes his cramped-up arm, hoping he didn’t pull anything, then brushes his sweat-soaked bangs away from his face. “I might get addicted to this.”

He scoops up his phone and presses a button before holding it up to his ear. 

“I took you off speaker,” he says. “Looks like I finally did it.”

“I guess that counts since you started coming before you touched yourself,” Iwaizumi says like a smart ass.

“Fuck you,” Oikawa laughs, slipping out of character. He wants to curl up in bed with Iwaizumi’s voice in his ear, talking him to sleep.

There’s so many reasons that wouldn’t be good. He has to get cleaned up and clean his dildo off. He has to change his sheets. He’s still streaming and needs to talk and probably show off his body a bit to make sure everyone got what they came for—they like him to show off his slick hole and the cum on his body. There’s other reasons, too, reasons he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“Did you come? Sounds like you did.”

“Like a firehose.”

“What an attractive image,” Oikawa says dryly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Iwaizumi laughs. “I need to get cleaned up. You okay, or you want me to stay on the phone? Sometimes the emotional drop after that can be a lot. I can stay on while you wrap up and we can chat.”

“I’m good. Thanks for stopping by and keeping us entertained.”

Iwaizumi grunts in response and hangs up.

Oikawa silences his phone and sets it to the side. He sits with his legs crossed, grabbing his ankles, and reads through all the messages he missed in chat. All he wants is to talk to Iwaizumi, but he has a crowd to please. 

 

* * *

 

Oikawa always enjoyed going to parties when he was part of the college volleyball team. He usually went with others on the team and got drunk and did stupid things that he still remembers fondly. So when Kindaichi invites him to a house party, he happily agrees to go.

It’s a Friday night and all the students present are using that as an excuse to get shit faced. Oikawa arrives at the house half an hour after the party was supposed to start and wanders through the unfamiliar building in search of his friends, who confirm they’re there by text. Oikawa knows he looks right at place when he catches people turning their heads to watch him as he passes by. He knows he looks good. He’s in a loose white tank top that dips low at his sides, showing off the muscles on his torso and arms. The loose top is contrasted by impossible tight jeans he had to wrestle on.

He pours himself a screwdriver with entirely too much vodka—two, maybe three shots worth—and continues his search for familiar faces. He eventually spots his friends in the corner on a sofa, drinks in their hands. Kunimi is sitting on the back of the couch, his legs dangling down between Kageyama and Kindaichi. It’s only when Oikawa approaches that he sees Iwaizumi on the arm of the sofa next to Kageyama. He’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts like every other frat bro that lifts weights.

Oikawa was prepared to see him at the gym, but not here. Just a few days ago, they had talked on the phone and Oikawa had fucked himself silly while Iwaizumi talked about fucking him. Part of him wants to hide in embarrassment, the other part of him wants to grab Iwaizumi’s cock brazenly out here in the open, and yet another part wants to ask what is going on between the two of them.

“Yuutarou, Akira, Tobio,” Oikawa greets warmly. He tilts his head when his eyes reach the end of the sofa. “Iwa-chan.”

“Tobio invited me,” Iwaizumi says without being asked. “He said there’d be free booze.”

“You guys know each other?” Kindaichi asks.

“From the gym Tobio dragged me to. How do you know him?” Oikawa asks, looking at Kunimi and Kindaichi.

Kindaichi answers, “Kageyama brings him over on game night because he sucks at Mario Kart and needs a ringer.”

Oikawa laughs at Kageyama being bad a something and at Iwaizumi playing Mario Kart with a bunch of college kids.

He sits on the sofa next to Kindaichi, looking around at the crowd. Some people are dancing and there’s a game of beer pong in the other room, but most are just chilling with a drink in their hand. The music isn’t half bad and to be honest, he’s missed Kindaichi and Kunimi (and even a part of him misses Kageyama, though they sometimes run into each other at the gym).

“Tobio, be a good boy and get me another drink,” Oikawa says, waving his empty cup at him. “Orange juice and loooots of vodka. That’s the clear one.”

Kageyama grabs Oikawa’s cup and leaves. 

“You shouldn’t be so mean to him,” Iwaizumi says. “He’s too earnest.”

“Trust me, that’s not Oikawa being mean,” Kunimi says. “Him using Kageyama for serving practice was mean.”

“I never hit him,” Oikawa points out.

“What about that time we were camping, and we got covered in mud, and you used all the hot water in the cabin, knowing Kageyama was the only one that hadn’t showered?”

“You make me sound like a monster, Akira!”

“You _were_ kind of a dick our first year.”

“But he wasn’t a dick of all the time,” Kindaichi says fondly. “Remember when that jerk tripped Kageyama on purpose before a match? Oikawa actually hit him with his serves.”

“And that time you were sick, Yuu, and he made chicken soup from scratch?” Kunimi asks.

“Oh!” Kindaichi says eagerly. “What about the time Kageyama had a test in calc and Oikawa helped him study by making everything about volleyball?”

Iwaizumi openly stares at Oikawa. Oikawa raises an eyebrow, silently asking _What?_ , and Iwaizumi shrugs and looks away.  

Kageyama comes back with Oikawa’s drink, which has so much vodka it burns, but it tastes good and gets him pleasantly drunk quick.

Luckily Kindaichi and Kunimi stop pointing out every horrible thing he’s done. They talk about volleyball and professional teams. Then they’re talking about video games and soon Kindaichi is drunk because he’s a lightweight and he’s talking about this girl he’s hooking up with regularly and how he really likes her. Oikawa smiles as he rambles on and on until Kunimi stops him. He’s missed this.

Oikawa looks out at the people dancing, paying more attention to the music. Oikawa loves this song. It’s stupid and repetitive with horrible lyrics, but he can’t help but find it catchy. He dances to it around his apartment, he’s put it in every playlist even if it doesn’t fit with the rest of the songs, and he knows every single word and note by heart.

Liquor is singing in his veins and he needs to dance _now_. He doesn’t mind dancing alone, but he spots Iwaizumi on the end of the sofa and decides that would be way more fun. He stands, grabs Iwaizumi’s wrist, and drags him to the crowd of dancers. Kindaichi and Kageyama ask where they're going, but Kunimi tells them don't bother. 

Iwaizumi isn’t the best dancer and Oikawa honestly isn’t surprised. He’s off beat, clearly following Oikawa’s lead. The only thing he has going for him are his hands. Iwaizumi’s hands are on his hips, palms large and hot, thick fingers slipping under the hem of his tank top to brush against bare skin. That and his eyes, so dark and intense, focused solely on Oikawa.

He remembers that phone call and what Iwaizumi said about his hips and how he knew how to move them so Oikawa throws his hands in the air and swirls his hips to the beat. He moves to the bass with slow, exaggerated movements that make his entire torso roll like a wave. He thanks his impulse enrollment in that belly dancing class at school when he sees Iwaizumi’s eyes drift down to watch his body.

“You’re so damn hot,” Iwaizumi says, sounding like a broken man. One of his hands tugs at Oikawa’s shirt and pulls up, flashing his torso and ribs before the fabric falls back down. “Do you have any bones in your body?”

He brings his hands to the back of Iwaizumi’s neck, threading his fingers into his short sweaty hair and tilting his head back up to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t give me such an easy setup,” Oikawa says.

Iwaizumi smiles and fuck, Oikawa needs to be closer to him.

The song changes, but they stay rooted on the dance floor. Oikawa rolls his hips forward to grind against Iwaizumi, who groans and tightens his grip on Oikawa’s hips, which makes it harder to go side by side but doesn’t really affect his ability to grind against Iwaizumi’s groin, which is all Oikawa cares about. He’s getting harder and harder behind his jeans and the friction is doing it for him.  

He throws both of his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, drags their chests together, and moves his whole body to the beat against Iwaizumi’s. They’re connected at every point—their legs, their chest, their hips. Oikawa dips his head so his mouth is next to Iwaizumi’s ear.

“I really want to kiss you right now, Iwa-chan.”

One of Iwaizumi’s hand squeezes his hip tightly and the other slides down, cupping his ass through his jeans. Oikawa makes a low sound, breathing wet and hot against Iwaizumi’s neck just below his ear. He can feel Iwaizumi getting harder against his hip and knows Iwaizumi can feel him too.

Iwaizumi’s lips brush his neck, dragging slowly against his skin. Iwaizumi’s tongue flicks out, tasting the salt of his sweat, but it retreats as quickly as it came. His hands slide up the curve of Oikawa’s back, rucking up his shirt, showing off his skin to anyone who is watching. Oikawa shivers at the rush of cool air against his flushed skin. Oikawa wants to kiss him. He wants Iwaizumi’s hands all over his body, wants his lips, his breath, his everything. He wants this man so bad it hurts.

Iwaizumi tilts his head towards Oikawa’s, but their lips don’t touch. “You smell like vodka,” Iwaizumi says. He presses his face into Oikawa’s hair.

Oikawa closes his eyes and clings to him, knowing that Iwaizumi’s going to pull away because he’s a damn gentleman, but Oikawa doesn’t want to let go.

“Just one kiss,” Oikawa says. “Just one.”

“We both know it wouldn’t stop at just one kiss.”

Then he lets go and leaves Oikawa on the dance floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter! Let me know what you think so far ;)
> 
> It's surprisingly exhausting writing smut-heavy stories! I struggled with a few of the scenes this chapter and I don't know how many more ways I can write sex without it being so repetitive and bland. Luckily there's some things that switch up the sex in the next chapter. If something seems particularly weak let me know and I'll look back at it and see what I can do to spice it up!


	3. Chapter 3

Oikawa is angry. Frustrated. Pissed _off_.

His memories of the party are fuzzy thanks to all the vodka, but he remembers Iwaizumi turning him down. After all this time, after all that teasing, Iwaizumi turned him down. He doesn’t remember exactly what Iwaizumi said, but he’s sure it’s not important.

A week later, he pushes himself too hard at the gym, using his jump serve for the first time since his knee injury to the surprise of everyone in the gym, Iwaizumi included. There’s deathly silence at his service ace. Iwaizumi stares at him from across the net. He mutters something, his lips moving, the word short and harsh, and Oikawa thinks it may be "idiot."

Oikawa spins the volleyball in his hands, looking at the defense formation of the other team. There’s some good receivers on that team. He decides to aim for the far right. He doesn’t do his jump serve again, but his standing overhand serve is still stronger than most. It’s not enough to get a service, though, and he curses mentally as its received flawlessly.

It's a normal volley. Receive, set, spike, repeat. Oikawa sets, their spike is clean, but Iwaizumi, damn him, blocks it. They return with a spike of their own and it goes right past their blocks and lands in an awkward place on Oikawa's side of the net. The libero is on the other side of the court. There’s a mad rush to get the ball because this point could be their break.

Oikawa runs, figuring he’s the closet, even if he is the setter, but someone else goes for it to, running forward, knocking straight into Oikawa. Their shoulders slam together and Oikawa’s teeth crack together on impact as his jaw clenches. He throws his hands out, but it’s not enough because momentum and gravity and the damn laws of the universe are not his friend.

Oikawa goes down hard, his knees hitting the wood floor before he has a chance to catch himself. Once he’s down, he slams his jaw shut and exhales through his teeth, the sound rough and nearly animalistic. There is no word to describe. Not a hiss, not a moan, not a scream. A raw frustrated, pained noise.

He will not cry out in pain. He will not cry out in pain. He will not cry out in pain.

Everyone swarms around him until someone begins to push them away. Iwaizumi, Oikawa realizes. Soon it’s just Iwaizumi and an older player somewhere in his forties squatting next to him. He thinks the older guy is an elementary school teacher.

Oikawa lies down on his side and presses at his knee, cursing up a storm. Iwaizumi touches his shoulder and Oikawa wants to lean into the touch, wants Iwaizumi to hold him through the waves of pain, but he doesn’t. He’s supposed to be mad at him. Not supposed to be, he _is_ mad. Iwaizumi led him on and turned him down. But he’s also in a lot of pain and his brain doesn’t have room to be mad right now.

He remains on his side, running through a list of symptoms and rating the pain on a scale of one to ten. Instant swelling and fire-hot pain, and somewhere around a seven.

“Does ice help?” Iwaizumi asks. Oikawa nods, too afraid to open his mouth and let out a pathetic noise. He doesn’t like being weak especially not in front of Iwaizumi. “I’ll be right back.”

Iwaizumi stands and runs from the room.

“Let’s get you to the locker room, yeah?” the other guy says.

Oikawa nods again.

With some help, he gets to his feet and limps his way to the nearby locker room, which is all but empty. There’s a few people in the shower and some heading out. Oikawa gingerly sits on the bench and physically pulls his leg up on the bench between two rows of lockers, gently bending the knee to ease the pain. He leaves his other leg to the side, foot firmly planted on the ground, rooting him. He doesn’t want to lose his balance and fall only to make his injury worse.    

“You okay?” his teammate asks, clearly unsure what to do. “You’ve hurt your knee before, right?”

Hurt is an understatement. He needed surgery. He needed weeks of PT. Then, after all of that, he learned he would never be able to play volleyball competitively again. He had to drop out of school. On good days, it only hurts when he stands for too long. On bad days, he can’t take his brace off and needs ice. He hates streaming on bad days. It’s so hard to find good positions that don’t ache, and he doesn’t want to wear his brace on stream.

Oikawa puts on a camera-worthy smile and nods. “I’ll be fine. Iwa-chan will take care of me.”

“I can stay until he gets back.”

“It won’t do any good,” Oikawa says honestly, still smiling. “Go play. Tell everyone I’m fine.”

His teammate makes a noise halfway between a grunt and a hum and then leaves. When he’s gone, Oikawa curls forward, as if making himself smaller will erase the pain. He takes in slow, measured breathes and rubs gently at his knee over the compression brace.

 _It hurts_ , he thinks. _It hurts, it hurts, it hurts_.

He doesn’t know how long it takes Iwaizumi to come back. Long enough for some stranger with a towel around his waist to ask if he’s okay. Oikawa says he just got a minor sprain—he hopes that all it is because if it’s worse, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. He tells the stranger his friend is coming and that’s the end of that good Samaritan attempt.

When Iwaizumi comes back, he’s panting like he sprinted here. He’s holding a clear ice pack with little blue gel balls in it. He hands the ice pack to Oikawa then sits on the other side of the bench near his foot.

“Thanks, Iwa-chan, but you can go now. When it eases up a bit, I’ll call a taxi and—”

“I’m staying.”

Oikawa doesn’t look at him. “Fine.”

Oikawa quickly presses the ice pack to the side of his brace. It takes a while for the cold to seep through the brace, but when it does, he lets out a sigh.

“Do you have any pain meds with you?” Iwaizumi asks.

He does in his bag, but he also needs to eat when he takes them or else he gets nauseous. They also make him loopy and he doesn’t want to worry about getting home like that.

“I’ll take them later,” Oikawa says. He doesn’t feel like explaining all of that and hopes Iwaizumi just drops it.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“Quiet would be nice.”

Iwaizumi quiets. He doesn’t leave, though.

Once one side of his knee is numb with the cold, he flips the ice pack over and moves it to the other side. It’s helping, slowly. Not as much as pills and rest will, but it’ll get him to the point where he can move. He can feel the brace getting tighter, meaning there’s swelling, but he leaves the brace on, the pressure helping more than the ice right now.

Iwaizumi suddenly inches forward, straddling the bench, Oikawa’s foot dangerously close to his crotch. “Shit. Your hand has to be cold. I should have brought a towel. Here.” He takes the ice pack from Oikawa’s hand and presses it against the same spot. “Let me know if I’m pressing too hard.”

Oikawa rubs his hands together to warm his cold, numb palm.

Iwaizumi’s other hand gently rests on Oikawa’s ankle, his thumb rubbing and brushing at the fine hair there. It seems like an absent-minded thing, not a conscious decision.

“The pack is warm,” Iwaizumi says after a few minutes, dropping it to the side. He doesn’t move his hand from Oikawa’s ankle, his thumb still rubbing in a maddingly slow pace. “I can get another one.”

Oikawa shakes his head. “I’ll be able to get home like this. It feels better already.”

It does, just a bit. He needs rest before deciding what to do next. If he had blown out his ligaments like before, he doubts he would be able to move his leg at all. He can bend it slightly, it’s just very uncomfortable and a lot of that is probably from the swelling.

Iwaizumi has a strange look on his face, like he’s actually thinking. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, or anyone else.”

“I wasn’t trying to prove anything. I’m fine.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t look convinced. He looks like he’s one second away from calling Oikawa out on his bull shit. “You’ve been weird since the party. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why would you care? You made it clear you didn’t want me.”

“What? When did I do that?”

“At the party,” Oikawa says, like Iwaizumi is a bigger idiot than he thought.

“No. What are you—? Did you hit your head too? I never turned you down. I would never—"

In one smooth motion, Iwaizumi bends forward, one hand sliding up Oikawa’s thigh under his gym shorts and the curling around his ankle to hold his leg still. Oikawa gasps when Iwaizumi kisses the skin just below his brace before dragging his lips up the rough compression fabric to his knee.

“You’re an idiot,” Iwaizumi murmurs, lips moving up along with the hand on his thigh, which reaches the hem of Oikawa’s underwear near his hip. His lips brush bare skin again above his knee brace and Oikawa’s chest is so tight it hurts nearly as much as his knee. “Do you even remember what I said at the party?”

No. Everything is fuzzy. He’d probably had five shots worth of vodka before they started dancing and even more after in frustration. All he remembers is Iwaizumi leaving him.

“What did you say?” Oikawa asks quietly.

“You told me to kiss you. And I said it wouldn’t stop just at just a kiss.”

Is that what he said? Shit. How much did Oikawa drink to forget that?

With a shaky hand, Oikawa reaches down and threads his fingers into Iwaizumi’s hair. Iwaizumi tilts his head back into Oikawa’s palm, looking up at Oikawa, his eyes impossibly dark and jaw dropped slightly, the space between his lips barely visible. He's the most gorgeous man Oikawa’s ever seen.

“We were both drunk,” Iwaizumi goes on. “I didn’t want to do anything and then wake up next to you for you to tell me you want nothing to do with me.”

Oikawa pushes at Iwaizumi’s head, pulling him closer, and Iwaizumi spreads out above him, shifting his body. As Oikawa lies back on his elbows, Iwaizumi looms over him, hands resting flat on the bench on either side of his waist, his body sliding itself between Oikawa’s legs. Oikawa keeps pushing at his head, keeps pulling him in, until they’re close enough to kiss.

“I’m not drunk now,” Oikawa says.

“Yeah, you’re not,” Iwaizumi replies.

It’s a slow, tender thing, that first kiss. Iwaizumi makes a low noise and carefully rests more of his weight on Oikawa, whose back presses against the bench and arms wrap around Iwaizumi completely. Iwaizumi has an elbow near Oikawa’s shoulder holding him up and another hand along his jaw, holding him gently as they kiss, all lips with no tongue. The kiss drags on and on, slow and exploratory and perfect.

Oikawa shifts his leg to prop it up on Iwaizumi’s hip and urge him to grind against him, but the movement sends a jolt of pain through his leg. He whines and Iwaizumi pulls away, his hand moving from Oikawa’s jaw to cup the back of his skull, providing a cushion against the hard bench.

“Come home with me,” Iwaizumi says, a mix of a question and a statement. “I’ll take care of you.”

Oikawa balls his hands, grabbing fistfuls of the back of Iwaizumi’s shirt, the fabric sticking to his still sweaty skin. He tries to imagine Iwaizumi fucking him in his current state. Every position that comes to mind, both cam-friendly and not, seem painful and impossible.

“I won’t be much fun with my knee like this,” Oikawa says. “I could probably suck you though.”

Iwaizumi leans away and sits on the bench between Oikawa’s legs. “I meant to actually take care of you. I have ice packs in the freezer and a heating pad. You can prop your leg up and rest without having to worry about getting food or anything stupid like that.”  

Oikawa smiles then laughs, covering his face with his hands. “I thought you were trying to be sexy.”

“How heartless do you think I am? Get your things together. Ask if you need help. I usually walk, but we can grab an uber or something.” Iwaizumi stands up and heads to his locker to change.

Oikawa sits and retrieves the dropped ice pack, holding it against his knee. He’ll take it with them, even if it’s getting too warm to be helpful. He’ll return it another time.

“I’ll be okay on my own,” Oikawa says.

“Like hell you’ll be okay,” Iwaizumi replies, his voice leaving no room for argument.

 

* * *

 

On the way home, Oikawa dry swallows three Vicodin and eats half a granola bar. It’s more than he should probably take since he hasn’t needed his pain pills in a while and his tolerance is non-existent, but he wants the pain to stop and he knows three won’t kill him.

The pills don’t fully kick in until after the taxi drops them off outside of Iwaizumi’s apartment complex. They hit him when he’s lying on the sofa, leg propped up on a pillow, brace off, and Iwaizumi is reading off the entire menu of a Chinese take-out restaurant just because Oikawa asked (and he only asked to screw with him; he can’t believe Iwaizumi is _actually_ reading the whole damn thing).

He feels the pills in his head then his body. A fuzzy, tingly feeling and he suddenly realizes his knee no longer hurts. He doesn’t want to move and risk disturbing the fuzz. He sinks deep into the sofa, closing his eyes.

“And you’re not listening,” Iwaizumi says with a sigh. “Hey, what do you want to eat?”

“Spring rolls and something spicy. Hmm. Green beans? Yeah. Spicy green beans. Lots of extra rice.”

Iwaizumi makes a vague noise before placing their order online. He disappears for a bit then comes back with an ice pack and a towel, putting the towel on Oikawa’s knee before draping the clay ice pack over his knee.

“How does it feel?” Iwaizumi asks.

“I’m feeling pret-ty good right now,” Oikawa replies, stressing both syllables on the word pretty.

“You’re high as fuck, aren’t you?”

“’m comfy.”

Iwaizumi sits on the foot of the bed and Oikawa nudges his thigh with his free foot but oh, wait, the fuzz is gone. He stops moving. Iwaizumi flicks through his Netflix account and puts something on. Oikawa tilts his head to listen but doesn’t watch. He’s too comfy and sleepy and fuzzy to focus.

He must fall asleep, but Iwaizumi is nice and wakes him up when the food gets there. Oikawa sits up digs into his boxes with his chopsticks. His arms feel heavy in a good way. His body is less fuzzy but he doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t remember the last time there was no pain his body. No knee pain, no uncomfortable pulled muscle in his arm from using a toy too hard for too long. It’s like a warm bath that never stops, only he’s not surrounded by water.

“You can stay the night, if you want,” Iwaizumi says before picking up a large dumping soaked in soy sauce. Whatever he got smells good. Some kind of meat dumpling. He wonders if this place delivers to his apartment.

“Hmm,” Oikawa says non-committedly. He tilts his head against the back of the sofa and rakes his chopsticks through his box, mixing up the food inside. “You said we wouldn’t stop at just a kiss. Did you mean that you want to fuck me?”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi says bluntly, no shame.

“Did you mean anything else?”

Do you want to date? Do you want to wake up next to me? Do you want to see me sing in the shower, see me burn my breakfast because I’m distracted dancing, see me sick and congested and whiny and ugly?

“I’ll take whatever you want to give. If you just want to fuck, we’ll fuck. If you want more, we’ll be more. If you want me to back off, I back off. Whatever you want, I’ll do.”

Oikawa knows what he wants. He’s known for a while now.

“I want you to let me sleep in your bed, and to wake up with you next to me, and for you to be hard against my thigh and kiss me until I can’t think straight but not push for more because you know my knee hurts and you don’t want to hurt me. I want you to make me breakfast in bed then ask me out on a date and kiss me some more when I say yes.”

Iwaizumi looks at him for a long moment. “Noted,” he says, then goes back to his food.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up with Iwaizumi’s arms around him, Iwaizumi’s morning wood hot and hard on his hip. It’s close enough to his thigh to count, Oikawa figures, and tells Iwaizumi as much while they kiss. Iwaizumi laughs and it’s the best sound Oikawa has ever heard in his life.

They spend their day in bed kissing, moving only to shower and change into fresh clothes and rummage through Iwaizumi’s surprisingly well-stocked kitchen. Oikawa wears a shirt that smells like Iwaizumi and pants that are an inch or two short at the ankle, which prompts him to spend the day pointing this out to his small, tiny, fragile, dear Iwa-chan. Iwaizumi points out that Oikawa isn’t that much taller, which Oikawa replies to with a smile, “But I _am_ taller, Tiny Iwa-chan.”

At one point, there’s a slow grind to their hips, both of them half-hard, but there’s no urgency to their movements.

Iwaizumi kisses his neck and says, “I’ll suck you if you want. Or, I could use my hand. Whatever you want.”

Oikawa’s heart flutters. He wants that. He wants so much more. But right now, he wants to kiss Iwaizumi until his lips are numb and mold to the shape of his mouth. He gently leads Iwaizumi back to his mouth, kisses him, then says, “I want this. Just this.”

“Okay,” Iwaizumi says, his voice rough with arousal but gentle and kind and caring and all of the things Arms isn’t but Iwaizumi is. This is just them, Oikawa and Iwaizumi, not King and Arms. It’s their hands, their breath, their feelings. Their personas have no place in their bed, not now, not ever.

It’s perfect until an alarm goes off on Oikawa’s phone telling him he needs to start getting ready for his stream. The world crumbles around him, his breathing spikes, his heart races.

He forgot. How did he forget?

“Oh, shit,” he curses, hurrying out of bed. He can call a taxi and be home in twenty minutes. That leaves him enough to time to get ready if he rushes his prep a bit.

Iwaizumi jumps out of bed and follows him out of the bedroom, confused for a moment before he realizes Oikawa is muttering about having to leave.

“You’re not seriously streaming tonight, are you?”

Oikawa sits on the sofa to put his shoes on. “What other choice do I have?”

“You’re in _pain_ ,” Iwaizumi says, like Oikawa is a child he’s telling not to play with fire. “You can barely walk without wincing and you want to put yourself in awkward positions?”

It’s true that camming requires contorting your body in weird ways. Making something look good on camera and feel good enough to keep you hard and interested is a lot more difficult than it looks.

“I won’t do anal, then,” Oikawa says, wishing he had the energy to fake enthusiasm. “The positions for jerking off aren’t so bad. It’s no worse than sitting or lying in bed.”

Iwaizumi stares at him. “Can’t you take a day off? You’ve been streaming three times a week since you first started, right? That was, what, six months ago?”

“Closer to seven now."

“You’ve never once taken a day off, have you? Your viewers can deal. Update your profile with a message. Your snapchat, too. Your health is more important than them getting their rocks off. Your body is not an object for them to use.”

Oikawa laughs bitterly. “I’m pretty sure shoving dildos up my ass in front of hundreds of people and doing what they tell me to makes me an object.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t get angry, or loud, or offended. He just looks at Oikawa, his gaze so intense Oikawa can’t meet his eyes. He’s too ashamed, too embarrassed. It’s all too much.

Oikawa drops his head, hiding his face. He’s so tired. He wishes he were back in bed with Iwaizumi. He wishes his alarm never went off.

Iwaizumi comes over and kneels on the ground between Oikawa’s legs, looking up at Oikawa’s tilted down face before cradling his head in his heads and bringing him down to kiss him. Oikawa sighs into the kiss, his entire body relaxing like melting chocolate.

When Iwaizumi pulls away, it’s to nuzzle his face into Oikawa’s hair. “No matter what you do, or what people say, you will always be _you_. You’re not an object.”

“But I let them objectify me. I let them tell me what to do. Sometimes I don’t even like it but I do it anyways. How is that any better than being an object?”

Oikawa brings a hand up and rests it on the back of Iwaizumi’s neck, holding him close.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Oikawa says, his throat tight and eyes wet. “I’m stuck and I’m so afraid that one day I’ll wake up and they’ll be gone, and I’ll have no way to pay my rent, or eat. What am I going to do if this falls apart? What happens if they get bored of me and move on to the next pretty face with a nice ass? I can’t give them any reason to leave.”

“One day off won’t hurt. If you’re that worried or short on money, I can do a surprise stream by myself and we can split the profits. Or, I could blow you on your channel. All you’d have to do is sit there and make noise. We can do it here with my equipment then get a shower and get back in bed like it never happened.”

The idea of Iwaizumi blowing him is definitely attractive, especially after a day of making out, but the idea of people watching, of people commenting and debating the status of their relationship makes him sick to his stomach.

“No,” Oikawa says in a quiet, gentle voice. “Whatever we are or are going to be, I want that to be ours. Just ours.”

He wonders if Iwaizumi understands. Iwaizumi pulls back and kisses him again. Oikawa thinks he does.

When they break apart, Oikawa rests his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, not caring about the strain it’s putting on his back to hunch over like this.

“If I take the night off, can I stay here and get fat on pizza?” Oikawa asks quietly.

Iwaizumi runs a hand up and down his back. “Yeah. Want me to order something now?”

Oikawa sits back up and nods. He rearranges the pillows on the sofa so he can probe his leg up on the table, rubbing a hand over his still-sore knee. Iwaizumi sits next to him with his laptop, listing off pizza places that deliver, and Oikawa forgets why he was upset in the first place.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa goes back to his normal camming schedule without any problems. His knee feels good enough that he doesn’t have to worry too much about which position he’s in. A lot of his subscribers ask if he’s feeling better—he had put a note on his profile saying he was sick and very unattractive—and he says he is better and leaves it at that. He keeps that part of his life private. As far as they need to know, he was throwing up and had the shits.   

There’s no change in his numbers since he took a day off. He’s so relieved he can’t put it into words. Logically, he knew one day wouldn’t hurt him, but he hasn’t felt logical for some time.

Over breakfast and coffee, Iwaizumi bluntly asks if Oikawa wants to keep doing cam shows. And Oikawa tells him the truth. He wants to stop soon, but he needs the money. Iwaizumi doesn’t press or convince him to quit, quietly understanding Oikawa’s motives and leaving it at that. Oikawa is thankful.

Being with Iwaizumi makes him feel like a teenager again. Making in the back seat of cares, kissing when they think no one is looking, blushing as he holds his hand in line for coffee. They’re both adults, but their relationship is so fresh and new and loving. Oikawa has never felt something like this. Everything feels new.

He’s honestly surprised that they manage to go three weeks without fucking.

They’re making out on Oikawa’s couch, Iwaizumi lying on top of him, Oikawa’s arms wrapped around him to keep him from falling off the sofa. It’s strange to have so much weight on top of him, but it feels good, heavy and warm and real. He’s sure if they stay like this for long, his legs will fall asleep, but right now it’s all he wants.

Iwaizumi pulls away from Oikawa’s lips and kisses his neck again and again, sucking and licking at his pale skin. Oikawa tilts his head back and lets him do what he wants, focusing on the way it feels. He can feel himself slowly filling out behind his jeans and rolls his hips up against Iwaizumi, who responds by kissing Oikawa’s pulse.

“Want to fuck?” Iwaizumi asks quietly.

Oikawa looks down to see Iwaizumi looking up at him with a hopeful expression. He looks like a puppy asking for a treat.

“Don’t relationships need healthy progression?” Oikawa says. “First you go on a date, then you kiss, then you touch each other, then there’s oral, and then you fuck. Didn’t you learn that in school, Iwa-chan?”

“I think we fucked up that order sometime around the anal bead incident.” Iwaizumi rests his chin on Oikawa’s shoulder. “If you don’t want to fuck, can I blow you?”

Oikawa brings Iwaizumi’s head up and presses their lips together, holding his face in his hands and kissing him deep. He pulls away and drags his lips across Iwaizumi’s impossibly sharp cheek bone to his ear and says, “No. I want you to fuck me.”

“Do you need to prep, or…?”

“I’m clean. Just finger me a bit first. Lube and condoms are in my nightstand.”

Iwaizumi props himself up on his elbows, hovering over Oikawa. “You want to do it out here?”

“Nothing wrong with couch sex.”

Iwaizumi shrugs and stands up. While he’s gone, Oikawa sits up and gets rid of his shirt before reaching down to undo the buttons and zipper on his jeans. With his fly open, he palms at himself through the fabric of his underwear, arching into the touch. Iwaizumi comes back in, his shirt gone as well, reading the back of the lube bottle like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“You really don’t have silicon lube?” Iwaizumi asks, still looking at the bottle he found in Oikawa’s stash. “You know that thing about silicon lube not mixing with silicon toys doesn’t usually affect high quality toys, right? I can look at what you have and see if you actually need to worry about that. That way you’re not re-lubing every ten minutes and you can use it in the shower.”

Iwaizumi makes it to the coffee table without looking at Oikawa. He’s still lying down, spread out and half naked, rubbing at his erection. Oikawa clears his throat, which makes Iwaizumi look up.

“Oh.” Iwaizumi flushes red like a virgin. “You look… good.”

Oikawa laughs. “Come over here and kiss me, you idiot.”

Iwaizumi sets the condoms and lube on the coffee table.

Oikawa holds his arms open, ready for an embrace as Iwaizumi joins him back on the couch. He returns to his previous position spread out over Oikawa, holding himself up with elbows on either side of his head. Oikawa wraps his arms around Iwaizumi as they kiss. Iwaizumi’s tongue moves just right against his, not messy or sloppy, a nice pressure.

Iwaizumi kisses down the pale length of Oikawa’s throat to his chest, passing by his nipples and continuing on down towards his stomach. He sits back on his heels and works of Oikawa’s jeans and underwear, inhaling sharply when he sees Oikawa laid bare before him. Where skin touches skin, it feels electric. Oikawa drops one foot to the floor as he spreads his legs, showing himself off for Iwaizumi. His cock rests gently against his thigh already half hard but flushed red. The way Iwaizumi looks at him makes him feel like the sexiest person alive.

“One day, I’m going to kiss every inch of your body,” Iwaizumi says as he leans down. He wraps one large hand around the base, stroking as he gently sucks on his swollen head, his other hand pressing against Oikawa’s inner thigh.

Iwaizumi takes his entire length into his mouth, something that's possible because he’s not fully erect. When Iwaizumi nuzzles his nose against the bare skin above the base of his cock, his chin pressed against his balls, Oikawa can’t think for a solid three seconds. No one has ever taken his whole cock like that, even when he’s soft. It’s so warm and he can feel Iwaizumi’s tongue at the bottom of his length.

When he comes back to his senses, his mind is a flood of pleasure and _Good, good, so good_.

He grabs onto the cushions as Iwaizumi kisses and licks at his length, urging him to full hardness. Iwaizumi doesn’t go down the whole way again, but he still takes most of Oikawa into his mouth and throat. He knows that if he looks down and sees Iwaizumi’s head bobbing up and down, he’ll come. It wouldn’t matter that he isn’t even close to coming, he would come if saw that. He’s sure of it.

Iwaizumi makes this noise around his cock, like he’s the one getting a blow job from a gorgeous man. Oikawa closes his eyes and lets the pleasure wash over him. He’s so out of it he doesn’t even realize Iwaizumi managed to reach over, grab the lube, and coat his fingers until he feels the slick press of finger tips against his hole.

Iwaizumi’s fingers circle his rim before pressing two inside. At the same time, he tongues underneath the head of Oikawa’s cock and Oikawa moans. Iwaizumi pulls off his cock to watch Oikawa's reaction but keeps stroking him as he works his fingers in deep and slow.

“Kiss me,” Oikawa says, reaching down to him and grabbing his hair to haul him up. Iwaizumi has to stop stroking him, but keeps his fingers buried deep in him as he kisses Oikawa.

Oikawa reaches between their bodies and rubs at the bulge in Iwaizumi’s pants. “Take it out,” Oikawa says against his mouth, their lips dragging together. “Let me touch you.”

Iwaizumi curses under his breath and rolls back onto his heels again, using both of his hands to get off his pants and underwear. He’s thick and hot and heavy between his thighs, completely hard without a hand on him. _Oikawa_ made him like that. He needs to touch him, now, or he thinks he'll lose his mind. 

Iwaizumi re-lubes his fingers and presses three back inside as he kisses Oikawa, who reaches down and strokes Iwaizumi from root to tip. He’s barely able to get his fingers comfortably around Iwaizumi’s girth, feeling the stretch at the space between his thumb and index finger. He’s so damn big. Not long like Oikawa, but thick. 

“How’s it feel?” Iwaizumi asks eventually, twisting his fingers deep in Oikawa. He tries to spread them and Oikawa can feel the stretch at his rim. He relaxes and Iwaizumi’s fingers spread a bit more. “Do you think you’ll need another finger?”

Four fingers? That is dangerously close to a whole hand and Oikawa isn’t too keen on that idea. He’s also never taken anything as thick as Iwaizumi, but he’s good at relaxing his body.

“Just the three.” Oikawa tilts his head back, baring his throat. He twists his hips down onto Iwaizumi’s fingers, fucking himself, feeling his cock rub against his stomach. Iwaizumi curls his fingers up against Oikawa’s prostate. “Right there. Fuck.”

Oikawa wonders if he could come with just Iwaizumi fingers. The idea is attractive and definitely something he wants to try, but not now.

“You want to try putting it in?” Oikawa asks.

“Fuck, yeah. Let me know if it hurts.”

Oikawa nods. Iwaizumi kisses one more time, drawing it out as long as he can until they’re out of breath. He takes his fingers out of Oikawa, wiping them on his thigh before reaching for a condom. With his dick wrapped, he lubes himself up and puts a bit more on Oikawa’s hole.

He takes Oikawa’s good leg and hooks it over his shoulder, rubbing a hand along his hip while the other lines up his cock with Oikawa’s hole. He keeps his eyes locked on Oikawa’s the entire time, the eye contact so intense that Oikawa can hardly breathe. Iwaizumi notices because he tells him to breathe as he starts to push in.

"That's it," Iwaizumi says. "You can take it."

 _So big_ , Oikawa thinks.

Iwaizumi stops once the head is in, still rubbing Oikawa’s hip. His other hand gently rubs Oikawa’s rim where its stretched wide around the head of his length. Iwaizumi turns his head and kisses Oikawa’s ankle. It’s so tender, so gentle. Oikawa whines and reaches out for him, needing to touch him, to be closer, and ends with a hand on Iwaizumi’s side.

“Keep going,” Oikawa urges. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t question him, trusting him, and pushes forward. The stretch is almost too much, but Oikawa relaxes, baring down and focusing on Iwaizumi’s hand on his hip. It’s been so long since he’s had a real person inside him. The heat is overwhelming but not unpleasant.

Before he knows it, Iwaizumi is fully seated inside of him. Oikawa moves his hips experimentally, moaning at how full and stretched he feels.

“That’s a lot of dick,” Oikawa says, slightly in awe. He can’t believe he just took that into his body.

“I don’t want to hear that coming from _you_.” He grabs Oikawa’s cock, stroking him slowly, thumbing at the head. He stays like that for a while, not moving, letting Oikawa adjust as he plays with him.

Oikawa is panting before he realizes it. “Move. C’mon. I want it.”

Iwaizumi lets go of Oikawa’s length. He doesn’t start off slow, but it’s also not fast enough to knock the air out of him. It’s a good pace, enough to make Oikawa toss his head back and grip desperately at the cushions, his toes curling with it. He can’t keep his voice in his throat, making small noises with nearly every thrust.

Iwaizumi closes his eyes and leans down, bracing himself with a hand near Oikawa’s waist. He starts to fuck into him harder, faster, and Oikawa moans at the intensity of it. He forgot what it was like to have someone fucking him, someone else controlling the pace. He can hear Iwaizumi panting and grunting above him, which shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi curses. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Camming has made Oikawa forget how quickly people come when they’re not putting on a show, when they’re not contorting their bodies in odd angles, when they’re with someone they care about and lust after. His orgasm builds slow but steady, and he can tell Iwaizumi’s close too.

Without thinking, Oikawa says, “Come in me.”

Iwaizumi lets out a deep, harsh groan.

Maybe Iwaizumi would like to bareback? Oikawa’s never done it and he’s heard it’s a bitch to clean, but if that’s Iwaizumi’s reaction to coming in a condom in his ass, what would his reaction be to doing it raw? Definitely something to keep in the back of his mind.

Iwaizumi spills into the condom deep inside him, pumping his hips as he empties himself. It’s Oikawa’s first time seeing him come in person and it’s so much better than on video. The sweat on his tan skin is more visible and his voice isn’t distorted. He keeps his eyes open and blown wide, though his eyebrows scrunch together, and he looks so damn good.

He slowly pulls out, tying off the condom before setting in carefully on the wrapper on the coffee table. He kisses his mouth, his neck, his chest, then lifts up Oikawa’s hips and kisses the head of his cock, the vein underneath, and then behind his balls. Oikawa doesn’t even have time to process what’s happening before Iwaizumi is licking at his still loose hole, his hands holding Oikawa’s hips off the sofa and spreading his cheeks.

No one’s ever rimmed him after fucking him. He’s so sensitive, every nerve raw and open.

Oikawa buries his hands in Iwaizumi’s hair. “Oh, fuck,” he gasps. He reaches down and grasps his cock, stroking himself hard and fast. “Yes, just like that. Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Iwaizumi laps his tongue against him in long, flat strokes. It doesn’t take long for Oikawa to come, groaning as he streaks his stomach and chest with ropes of cum. Iwaizumi drops his hips and licks the cum on his stomach, swallowing it before kissing Oikawa, but he can still taste himself on Iwaizumi’s tongue.

Iwaizumi’s hands are all over his body, rubbing him as he pants and comes down from his orgasm. He kisses Oikawa’s temple, murmuring nonsense into his hair. _You felt so good. You’re amazing._

Oikawa licks his lips. “You know, I’ve never come that close to someone before.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi braces his elbows on either side of his head. His grin is amazing. “Lucky me.”

Oikawa can’t help it. He kisses him again.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t want people to see them together, but does he care that other people see Iwaizumi? Does Iwaizumi care that other people see him? Oikawa knows Iwaizumi is different from Arms, from this character he made up and plays as, the same way Oikawa is different from King. It doesn’t bother Oikawa that people get off to Iwaizumi, though he thinks that it should. Maybe he’s too used to Iwaizumi camming to care like he should.

Oikawa texts Iwaizumi asking if he wants to go on a date and Iwaizumi responds quickly with _sure_ , which is as close to enthusiastic as Iwaizumi will get.

“When I agreed to go on a date I didn’t think that meant ‘go to a sex shop,’” Iwaizumi says.

“Have you ever been here?” Oikawa asks. Iwaizumi shakes his head. “It’s awesome.”

He goes inside, Iwaizumi following. It’s sleek and clean and very well organized. The woman behind the waves, recognizing him, and tells them if they need help to let her know. She knows that Oikawa is familiar with the store and probably won’t need help, but he appreciates it.

“I thought we could buy something together,” Oikawa says.

“I don’t really use toys with other people offline,” Iwaizumi admits. “I get why you’d think that since I use them in my stream, but it’s mostly a stream thing, or a masturbating thing.”

“Good to know. But I came here because wanted something new to rotate into _my_ streams.”

“Then why do you need my help?”

“We may not be doing shows together, but when I’m using it, I’ll know you helped pick it out. It’ll be our dirty little secret. It’s kind of hot, right?”

Iwaizumi grumbles and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Fine. What are you looking for?”

“I’m thinking a new dildo. I don’t use my plugs and beads enough for people to get tired of the ones I have, but I use my dildos a lot.”

“How many do you have?”

“Three.” Oikawa counts on his fingers as he describes them. “My favorite is a realistic six and a half inch. Then I have a solid black five inch one that’s real smooth. I also have a bright pink one that’s sort of a mix of the two. It’s not quite realistic but it’s not totally fake looking either.”

“I don’t know how many bright pink dicks you’ve seen, but I can promise you, that’s not realistic.”

Oikawa grabs onto Iwaizumi’s arm, steering him towards the dildo section. There’s some in plastic packages that are annoying to open and others in boxes. A few of the high-end ones are on display behind a glass case that the employee can unlock. The store rotates their selection frequently, sometimes putting things in the back for a month or two then bringing them back out, meaning there’s always something different to look at.

“Do you care that I cam?” Oikawa asks suddenly, glancing over at Iwaizumi.

“It’s not you. I mean, it’s your body, but it’s not you. I wish you didn’t have to because I know you don’t like it, but I don’t care that you’re doing it.” Iwaizumi pauses. “Do you care that I do it?”

“Like you said, your body, not you. To be honest, Arms is a jerk sometimes.”

Iwaizumi huffs a laugh. Oikawa turns his attention back to the toys.

“I want something a bit bigger,” Oikawa says. “Maybe eight inches?”

“The jump to eight can be a lot depending on how thick you go.”

“Hmm. What toys do you have again?”

“A lot more than you.” Iwaizumi frowns at the selection, moving a few feet down the aisle. “My favorite actually isn’t that big.”

Oikawa thinks for a moment then realizes he’s probably talking about the one he rode to come without his hands. He makes a mental note to ask Iwaizumi about that later.

For now, he drops his chin onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder and says, “You know I’m nearly eight inches, right?”

“I know,” Iwaizumi says coolly, unphased as he continues to look at the toys.

“Is your ass going to be able to handle me?”

Iwaizumi gives him an unimpressed look. “You’re not that thick compared others with that kind of length. Even I’m thicker than you.”

“Because your dick is manly like the rest of you.”

“What does that even mean?”

Oikawa pulls away and picks up a box he’s looked at a couple of times. The only thing unrealistic about it is the bright blue color and maybe the number of veins. It seems a bit excessive. But it’s nearly eight inches insertable and on the smaller side for circumference, a nice five inches, a hair larger than the average erection but definitely slim compared to other eight-inch dildos. Oikawa didn’t take a measuring tape to Iwaizumi’s dick, but he thinks Iwaizumi may be a bit thicker than that.

Iwaizumi comes up from behind him and Oikawa leans against him, Iwaizumi arms coming to circle around his waist and support him with comfortable ease.

“Think you could take it?” Iwaizumi asks, all business.

“If I do a lot of prep and take it slow, I think it’s worth a try. I don’t think I’d use it a lot, but I want something bigger to show off with.”

“Then get it. It’s probably the best material you’re going to get in this price range.”

Oikawa decides to buy the toy. “Do you need anything while we’re here?”

Iwaizumi pulls away from Oikawa’s back and looks around. “I might see if they carry the brand of lube I use. I order it online, but the reviews say the website jacks up the price and you can get it cheaper elsewhere.”

Oikawa’s eyes light up like a child looking at a Christmas tree. “They have _so_ much lube, Iwa-chan. I think you could fill a pool with it.”

Iwaizumi laughs. “I doubt that.”

“No, really!” Oikawa says, heading towards the section. “There’s so much.”

Iwaizumi keeps laughing, following behind him.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa spends more and more time at Iwaizumi’s apartment. He sleeps in his bed, wears his clothes, uses his shampoo. He jokes that he smells manly and Iwaizumi still doesn’t get it, which just makes it funnier to Oikawa.

One night, after the dishes are in the sink, Iwaizumi comes up behind Oikawa and kisses his neck. Neither of them is streaming tonight. Oikawa reaches behind him, a hand threading awkwardly into Iwaizumi's hair as he grinds back against him.

“I’m horny,” Iwaizumi says bluntly. He nips at Oikawa’s neck, not biting because Oikawa made it very clear he is not into pain, just a gentle drag of his teeth before his tongue takes over.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Oikawa…”

“Just kidding.”

Oikawa turns around and wraps his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, kissing him without preamble. Iwaizumi groans, immediately pushing Oikawa back against the counter, and a wave of heat washes over Oikawa as he thinks about kitchen sex. It’s not something he’s done, but he thinks it might be hot. Would Iwaizumi bend him over the counter, or maybe hoist him up onto it? He imagines doing it half-clothed, desperate, fast, hard. He ruts against Iwaizumi, wanting it now. 

“I want to take you to bed,” Iwaizumi says, squashing that dream for now.

“Then take me to bed.”

Iwaizumi picks up Oikawa, who gasps and clings to him as Iwaizumi carries him into his bedroom. He sets Oikawa gently on the bed, like a fragile, something of great worth. Oikawa flushes as he moves to the center of the bed, spreading his legs and inviting Iwaizumi between them.

Iwaizumi takes off his shirt and Oikawa quickly follows, stripping out of his pants when he realizes Iwaizumi is doing the same, leaving on their underwear. Without even touching each other, Oikawa is more excited or turned on than ever before. 

Iwaizumi kneels between Oikawa’s legs. With confidence, he lifts his leg and kisses his injured knee and Oikawa’s entire body shivers at the gentle kiss.

“There’s not an inch on your body that I don’t love.”

Oikawa tosses an arm over his eyes, but Iwaizumi is quick to grab his wrist and reveal his face. Oikawa knows his face is flushed red. He finds it in him to meet Iwaizumi’s eyes when he says, “How stupid is it that I can talk like I do on camera, but when you say stuff like that, I want to hide away because it’s so embarrassing?” 

Iwaizumi kisses him, wet and hard and desperate, grinding his hips into Oikawa’s when their bodies line up. Oikawa fists at Iwaizumi’s hair, turning his head for a better angle, moaning when the slide of their hips lines up their hardening cocks. Oikawa tosses his head back as he gasps, fingers clawing desperately at Iwaizumi’s scalp as he keeps up the slow grind of their hips.

Iwaizumi kisses under his jaw and Oikawa tilts his head back further, baring his pale throat.

“Want you in me,” Oikawa says. “Want to be in you.”

Iwaizumi moans against his neck. “The second one.”

Oikawa tries to remember the order he said them in. Iwaizumi sits back on his heels and spreads Oikawa’s thighs across his. Oikawa can see the hard outline of Iwaizumi’s erection straining against his briefs. He looks down the plane of his own body and sees his own cock in a similar state.

His brain finally catches up.

 _You’re going to fuck him_ , he thinks.

He sits up, wraps an arm around Iwaizumi’s waist, then flips their position so Iwaizumi is on his back and Oikawa is above him. He makes quick work of Iwaizumi’s briefs, tugging them down with Iwaizumi’s help and tossing them to the side, then he’s got his hand around Iwaizumi’s erection.

He’s fully hard, hot and heavy and _thick_. Oikawa leans down and licks at the head as he strokes him.

“Oh, fuck,” Iwaizumi curses.

Oikawa wraps his lips around his head and bobs down as he strokes down, pulling down his foreskin. He tastes like salt and musk and sweat. It’s not a good taste, not a bad taste, but it overwhelms him. Iwaizumi tosses his head back into the pillows and curses louder, reaching down to blindly grab at Oikawa’s head. Iwaizumi’s hand doesn’t push and he doesn’t fuck up into his mouth so Oikawa lets his hand rest on the top of his head where it fits perfectly against the curve of his skull. 

Eventually Oikawa pulls off with a slick sound. “Lube?” he asks, voice rough.

“Nightstand, second drawer down,” Iwaizumi says.

When Oikawa opens the drawer, he forgets what he’s looking for. There’s so many toys. Silicon, glass, metal, all different lengths and thicknesses and some that Oikawa doesn’t even recognize. He thinks of all the things he could do with these. He thinks of all the things Iwaizumi could do to him, all the things he could do to Iwaizumi.

“Are you sure you don’t use sex toys outside of streams?” Oikawa asks. He looks over his shoulder at Iwaizumi. “I want to use these on you…”

“We’ll talk about it.”

Oikawa smiles in victory. He grabs a large bottle of lube along with a condom and returns, kissing Iwaizumi on the lips as he opens the bottle without looking, a skill he never knew he had until now. He keeps kissing Iwaizumi as he reaches down between his legs, pressing beneath his balls. Iwaizumi responds by opening his legs and fuck, that’s hot. Oikawa slips his fingers further down and slowly coats Iwaizumi with lube before sliding in his first finger.

Iwaizumi is hot and tight, and Oikawa aches to be inside of him. He wants to be buried in that heat, to hear Iwaizumi panting beneath him, to feel Iwaizumi's body clenching down around his cock. 

“Okay?” Oikawa asks, slowly moving his finger in and out.

“I don’t know if you know this, Oikawa, but I play with my ass _a lot_ ,” Iwaizumi says. “You can put in another.”

Oikawa does just that, slipping in a second finger along the first. Iwaizumi tilts his head back at that and plants his feet on the bed to roll down onto Oikawa’s fingers. Oikawa moves his fingers in and out before curling them up towards Iwaizumi’s pelvis in search of his prostate. He knows he’s found it when Iwaizumi curses and reaches down to touch himself.

Oikawa places soft, dry kisses to Iwaizumi’s shoulder as he stretches his fingers apart, trying to loosen Iwaizumi’s rim. Iwaizumi is good at relaxing himself, but he doesn’t do anal as much as Oikawa and he still needs a bit of coaxing to get him ready. Soon his body gives around his fingers, relaxed.

“Want another?” Oikawa says, looking up at Iwaizumi.

“Go for it.”

“So manly.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes.

Oikawa takes his fingers out and puts on new lube before reaching back down and bunching three of his fingers together. He nudges Iwaizumi’s hole with the tips of his fingers before pressing inside. Iwaizumi tugs slowly on his cock and exhales loudly. Oikawa kisses his shoulder and licks at his skin as he works his fingers in and out and watches Iwaizumi touching himself.

He’s content to let Iwaizumi set the pace. Lucky for him, Iwaizumi is straight forward and when he’s had enough of Oikawa’s fingers, he reaches over and brazenly grabs Oikawa’s erection though his underwear.

“Get in me,” Iwaizumi demands.

Who would ever say no to that?

Oikawa moves on the bed, kneeling between Iwaizumi’s legs. He drags Iwaizumi’s legs over his thighs, spreading him open.

“Can you stand on your knees long enough to fuck me?” Iwaizumi asks. It’s not meant to be an insult. It’s coming from a place of concern.

“Depends how long you take to come. Let’s start like this and if my knee starts to hurt, you can ride me.”

Iwaizumi nods. Oikawa removes his underwear then rolls down a condom and slicks himself with a layer of lube. Finally, he leans down over Iwaizumi. With one arm is braced near his head, the other reaches down between their bodies to line up his cock with Iwaizumi’s entrance. He kisses Iwaizumi as he slides in, releasing his cock and bringing his other arm up for support when the head slides in.

“Holy shit,” Iwaizumi gasps, voice light and airy, softer than usual too. Oikawa stills, not wanting to push. Iwaizumi wraps his legs around Oikawa as best he can, rolling his hips down and forcing Oikawa deeper inside him. “Keep going. Deeper.”

Oikawa complies, kissing Iwaizumi’s temple as he slowly pushes inside. Iwaizumi is hot and tight, better than anything Oikawa could have imagined. Oikawa has fucked men before, women too, but none have felt like this.

Iwaizumi makes tiny, fucked out noises every time Oikawa inches forward. It’s the sexiest thing Oikawa’s ever heard. He watches Iwaizumi carefully for his reaction and pain level. Iwaizumi’s right when he says Oikawa isn’t as thick as him, but Oikawa is without a doubt longer and that is its own challenge.

When he bottoms out, the sound Iwaizumi makes him want to come on the spot. Iwaizumi’s arms are looped around him, holding him close, chest to chest, and he doesn’t seem to have any intention to let Oikawa go.

“You feel so good,” Oikawa says. He moves his hips, not pulling out far, just grinding down into him with shallow circular movements. Iwaizumi clenches around him and his jaw drops as he moans. “I swear I could come just like this.”

“It’d be better for me if you move before coming,” Iwaizumi says, rolling his hips as best he can to fuck himself. “ _Fuck,_ Oikawa, hurry up and put that big dick to use.”

Oikawa decides to go slow and deep. He lifts his head to watch Iwaizumi’s face as he pulls his hips back, pulling out a few inches before pushing back in, putting force behind his thrust. It makes Iwaizumi jolt, his entire body rocking with the force of it, staying still on the bed only because he’s clinging so tightly to Oikawa. His moan comes from somewhere deep in his chest and resonates through Oikawa’s body.

Iwaizumi is hot all over from where Oikawa is buried deep to his large hands like fire on his back. He doesn’t dig his nails into Oikawa’s skin, but he can feel the tips of Iwaizumi’s fingers curling inward like he wants to grasp onto something.

Oikawa knows he’s found his prostate when Iwaizumi gasps louder than Oikawa has ever heard him. His eyebrows pinch together and his mouth hangs open for several seconds before he lets out another loud gasp when Oikawa thrusts against that same spot. Iwaizumi was right about one thing: Oikawa knows how to use his hips.

Oikawa feels one of Iwaizumi’s hands leave his back before he feels it moving between their bodies, reaching between them to grasp and stroke his cock.

“I’m close,” Iwaizumi grunts. “Go faster.”

Oikawa complies, pulling out nearly the entire way before snapping his hips forward. Iwaizumi let’s out the most beautiful breathy sound as his face twists up in pleasure. Oikawa kisses him, trying to get him to relax, because he’s so damn tight, every muscle in his body on edge as his orgasm approaches. Oikawa thrusts as fast and hard as he can, urged on by the broken noises pouring from Iwaizumi’s mouth.

Iwaizumi comes hard between them, back arching off the bed and hips rolling down onto Oikawa’s cock. Oikawa kisses him messily, giving Iwaizumi the time to take large gasping breaths between kisses.

Oikawa leans back and pulls out, ripping off the condom and jerking himself hard. Iwaizumi reaches behind him and grasps the headboard, arching his back too, just to show off his body. It doesn’t take much with a view like that. Oikawa shots his load all over Iwaizumi’s stomach. He strokes himself until his thighs are trembling and his cock is pathetically empty and oversensitive.

When he lets go of himself, Oikawa is panting like he’s just run a marathon. He leans back down on his elbows and kisses Iwaizumi, pressing their tongues together and slowly moving their lips.  

Iwaizumi brings his hands back from the headboard and holds Oikawa’s face in his hands. “You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa lies down next to him on his side, propping up his head to look down at Iwaizumi. “Did I live up to your expectations?”

Iwaizumi’s voice is liquid smooth and fucked out. “Better, but don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” Oikawa says with a shit-eating grin. He drops his head and kisses Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi curls onto his side, pressing against Oikawa, who wraps an arm around him.

“Was it good?” Iwaizumi asks, though the answer is obvious. It’s painted across his stomach.

“So good,” Oikawa replies, holding him closer.

Iwaizumi smiles into Oikawa’s skin and Oikawa thinks he could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said this story was going to have three chapters. That's still mostly true. There's going to be a short epilogue now because I can't stand to end this story with Oikawa camming when he dislikes it so much. So the true happy ending happens next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Five months later_ **

 

Kageyama: _Oikawa, coach wants to see you._

Oikawa: _I’m not on the team anymore??_

Kageyama: _He said meet him in his office at 4:00PM on Monday._

Oikawa: _I’M NOT ON THE TEAM ANYMORE??_

Kageyama: _I know, but that’s what he told me to tell you._

Kunimi: _Can you please stop talking to Oikawa in the GROUP CHAT?_

 

Oikawa doesn’t want to go, but he owes a lot to Coach Irihata. Oikawa was rough around the edges but brimming with potential when he joined the college team. Irihata refined him like a gem, buffing away all of his roughness and leaving him a gem. He shined and took the college league by storm until his injury.

It feels so strange being back on campus and walking through the sports building near the gym. He doesn’t have to think about where he’s walking, his legs carrying him through the familiar halls to Irihata’s office. He knocks on the door, wondering what the hell this is all about, and hears Irihata call for him come in.

There’s a picture of Oikawa on the wall, a magazine article of him framed and displayed proudly next to all of Irihata’s other star pupils. There’s a picture of the current team holding a trophy they won last month. It’s large and gold and Kageyama looks so horribly awkward, not knowing where to look, his eyes off the side while everyone else on the team looks at the camera. Iwaizumi and Oikawa had taken Kageyama, Kunimi, and Kindaichi out for drinks to celebrate after they got back from that tournament.

Oikawa sits in a large plush red chair and remembers sitting in the same chair when he was captain of the team and was here to talk strategy and training. Now he doesn’t know why he’s here.

“I’m going to get to the point,” Irihata says. “I’d like to offer you a job.”

Oikawa stares at him. “Sir?”

“Coaching, of course. Mizoguchi’s wife is pregnant and they’ll be moving to a more child friendly area so our team is going to lose a coach. It’s my job to find a replacement. The first person that came to mind was you, Oikawa.”

Oikawa swallows thickly. There are trophies behind Irihata’s desk on the wall that span years. This college is famous for its volleyball team. It’s why Oikawa had gone there in the first place. There’s always press surrounding the team, even coaches. Oikawa’s stomach drops at the thought.

“It’d be a part time position at first then, if we see good results, we can talk about full time. You were almost done your degree in exercise science, right? The school board is weird about hiring people full time without degrees so we can wave your tuition while you’re working for us part-time and you can finish that by the time we’re considering full-time employment.”

They’d even pay for him to finish his degree. He could cry.

Coaching, he thinks wistfully. He never wanted to as a player, but since his injury? He’s thought about it countless times. Each time, he’s talked himself out of it. His brain always comes up with the worst-case scenarios. His leg gets worse, he can’t coach, he loses his temper, someone finds his videos and connects them to his face.

“Sir, I can’t coach your team in good conscience,” Oikawa says and its break his heart.

“And why is that?”

“Since I left school, I’ve done things that, if people were to find out about them, would make the team and school look… bad.”

“Bad?”

“Yes.”

Irihata nods slowly then licks his thick chapped licks. “Illegal things?”

“No.”

There’s a heavy pause and Oikawa refuses to be ashamed. He does what he has to do. He won’t let anyone tell him he’s horrible or dirty or wrong for that.

“Just unsavory, then?” Irihata asks.

Oikawa balls his hands into fists. “I didn’t want to do these things, but I needed money and my injury prevented me from working most jobs. I—I’m sorry if that disappoints you, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I see.” The coach scratches the edge of his nose and sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch with you after your injury. You left so suddenly and, well, nothing to do about it now.”

Oikawa swallows and meets his coach’s eyes. He waits to be dismissed out of habit. Irihata taps his fingers mindlessly against his desk, the sound loud and hollow.

“I’m just guessing,” Irihata goes on, “but I bet there are a lot of people in similar situations to you. People who are vulnerable and in need of help. People who, like you, don’t like where they are but would need resources to leave. Would that be correct?”

“Yes.”

“And there are groups that help these people? Non-profits, charities, things like that?”

“Possibly.”

“If you were to get involved in an organization like that and help people that are in your current situation, don’t you think we could put a positive spin on any unsavory details if they ever come to light? Even if we never need to spin such a story, I think it’d be good work and would help a lot of people. I think the work is something you would be passionate about, too, to be honest. You may not realize it, but you like to help people. Kageyama being the one exception, it seems, though I think you helped him without meaning to.”

Oikawa stares at Irihata. “It would be messy, if it ever does come to light. There’s a lot of things people could say.”

“You know what they say about you?” Oikawa shakes his head. Irihata slams his hand on the table. Oikawa startles, jumping in his chair, but does not look away from his former coach. "You’re a _damn_ good player, Oikawa. That hasn’t changed. If these things come up, any player that questions it can talk to me about it. Any reporter can talk to me. I’ll deal with all of it. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now, do you want to talk details? Like I said, it’s part time, but team’s done well these past few years so we can pay you well…”

 

* * *

 

Oikawa feels like a sleep walking zombie. He can’t believe what just happened. There’s messages on his phone from Kageyama asking what the coach wanted, but Oikawa hasn’t been able to respond. He can’t believe it.

Is this real? It can’t be. It has to be.

This changes everything.

He goes home the apartment he shares with Iwaizumi, cardboard boxes still spread throughout the place that they’ve yet to unpack. The new apartment has two bedrooms, one they’ve designated for camming and another for them to sleep in. If people notice the similar background in their streams, Oikawa and Iwaizumi won’t comment. People can draw their own conclusions. Their relationship has been their private secret for months and they plan to keep it that way.

All of the furniture is there but the little things are still missing—the books and fake plants and photos. The floors are refurbished barn wood or something equally hipster and the walls are naked red brick. It feels bare, but it has potential. Oikawa’s stomach feels warm and fluttery every time he walks through the front door.

He finds Iwaizumi in the kitchen making dinner.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, walking into the room. The pans and plates and bowls still need to be put into the cabinets. Right now, they’re all resting on the dining room table in a cluttered mess.

Iwaizumi looks up from the bowl he’s mixing. “Welcome home. I’m trying that pasta sauce recipe you saw online. How’d that thing go?”

“I got a job?” Oikawa says, still unsure, posing it like a question.

Iwaizumi drops his spoon and walks over to him, hugging him and laughing. Oikawa hugs back numbly, still unbelieving even though he starts next week. “That’s awesome, Tooru! Wait, you went back to the college today. Are you working there now?”

“They want me to be a part-time coach. The pay is decent. I don’t think I’ll be able to quit streaming all together, but he said they’d wave my tuition so I can finish my degree. If I do well and get my degree, then we could talk about full time."

“Holy shit! That’s amazing. That’s literally everything you’ve wanted. Why aren’t you freaking out? I'm freaking out!"

"I don't know if I've processed it..." Oikawa’s eyes widen. He looks desperately at Iwaizumi for help, but Iwaizumi just looks confused. “Tobio still has one more year of school. I’m going to be his coach.”

Iwaizumi clearly has no sympathy because he laughs and says, “Congratulations.”

“I don’t want to coach him. This is not a laughing matter, Iwa-chan. I have to coach _Tobio_. Stop laughing!"

Iwaizumi keeps on laughing. He doesn’t stop until he kisses Oikawa, who finally smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with Oikawa getting his happy ending (or at least starting off on his happy ending), I think that's a wrap! I may eventually write a spin off with Kuroo, but no promises. (Edit: now with sequel: [Shameless](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14939411).)
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed the story :)


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